


Living After: Summer Unwind

by btvsp2082, fembuck



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 37,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btvsp2082/pseuds/btvsp2082, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fembuck/pseuds/fembuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-S7 for BtVS, Post-S4 for AtS. What happened after Buffy smiled in the last moment of that last scene? How the hell did they get off that road?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this almost immediately after the series finale. I wasn't ready to let go of these characters that I'd watched for seven years, week after week. That ending shot gave such a good feeling to go out on. It was hopeful, and it set the tone for what I wanted to be my "thank you" to the Buffyverse. 
> 
> And I wanted Buffy to have a little fun, and Faith to be the one who helped her with that.
> 
> This wasn't my first Buffy/Faith story, but it is the one I still like. Those final five episodes of Season 7, there seemed to be a lot of subtext to read into. I remember running with it, and I also remember talking to my favorite writer at the time about it. She goes by "fembuck" on here, and she's awesome. I eventually asked her to write with me, which is why she's listed as co-author. Don't know if she even remembers, but she's a big reason why this was such a blast.
> 
> I'll get this all posted as fast I can. Hope you enjoy. :)

**{So here we are, right? Staring at Cali's newest, friggin' massive pothole, waiting to hear the answer. To hear the plan, ‘cause hell, we followed her down and live to spin the tale...most of us. From where I'm standing, gets her mad points. And just when I start to worry about what's gonna come next, she turns around, big, damn smile on her face. All right, B! Wonder how it feels to drop the weight? Her shoulders have gotta be sore somethin' fierce.}**

"Well, first I was thinking, ‘Get this stab looked at’--then possibly fixed. Then pizza, then 'Rip Van Winkle' through the next decade, then wake up filthy rich on a tropical..." Buffy spoke to the victorious crowd before trailing off, realizing something. "Um, oh yeah. How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?"

She saw the empty road ahead, saw the school bus full of relieved yet injured slayers, thinking of the people they lost. But she didn't go to that solitary darkness. Spike and the others sacrificed themselves for the world, for the survivors; she owed it to them to never fall into that trap again.

Because she wasn't alone anymore—she and Faith were connected to hundreds of girls just like them. They shared the power. Words couldn't describe how great that felt.

Then there were her friends, her family, standing triumphant and proud. They won the best prize anyone could ever ask for: the freedom to choose. Twenty-two, with their lives actually waiting.

She met each of their eyes, showing gratitude and love silently, as the moment wasn't ready to end. They made it; Spike had assured that. She hoped that the kind of love she had for him, while not the kind he wanted, had been somewhat of a comfort. It was all she had to give.

And she was exhausted. But walking miles upon miles to the nearest sign of civilization still beat fighting her way to it.

"Was that...?" Faith suddenly looked directly at her, shocked. "'Humor' finally clawin' up’n’out? Had to be, ‘cause ya know, it was almost funny." She doubled over then, clutching her stomach. "Don't...think I can...take it..."

This was followed by faux-hyperventilating, very exaggeratedly.

Dawn was there for support, rubbing her back. "It's okay. Just put your head between your knees and breathe slow. I know, it's hard to believe, but I'm pretty sure she's not a robot."

**{She's gonna kick our asses.}**

"D'you want me to kick your ass?" Buffy narrowed her eyes with a smirk at her fellow slayer, and then looked to her sister. "Once you get a new bedroom, you're grounded in it for two weeks. Minimum. Just figured a head's up would be nice."

**{Told ya.}**

"Yep, definitely not a robot," sighed Dawn.

 

______

 

Giles spoke up, concern in his voice. "You should let someone examine your wound, Buffy. It needs tending to, I'm sure. How badly were you...?"

The group dispersed, and he followed behind his surrogate daughter, a steadying hand on her back, until she took a seat on the rear of the bus, legs hanging off the edge.

"Bad. I felt it go through. But when I got the scythe in my hands, I think it gave the 'super healing' a major boost," answered Buffy, seeing Faith walk up and bend down a little in front of her. "You volunteering to fix me?"

Faith grinned and called, "Vi! Toss me a kit!"

The redheaded slayer did, and Faith got out some gauze and tape.

"So what did'ya do with it?" Next she dabbed some alcohol onto a cotton swab. It was the best they had. "The scythe."

With Buffy being taken care of, Giles went to see how Robin was doing.

Buffy lifted up the bloody part of her top, revealing her injured side. "Left it on top of the bus. Might be hard to..."

Watching as Willow floated it into her own hands, she smiled.

"Or it won't be. Make sure the girls get that, Will?"

Her best friend nodded and boarded the bus.

"It's not even deep—you faking just for the attention, or what?" Faith knew the puncture had been worse, but now she stared in amazement. "That thing is so dope."

Buffy’s eyebrows rose. "All right, what's with the new lingo? 'Trippin',' 'Mad,' 'Dope'...something you wanna tell me? You aren't gonna start calling me 'Whitey,' are you?"

Faith chuckled. "Going to prison’s like steppin' into another country...bunch of different chicks with their own rules, all spewing Greek ‘cause of some nasty language barriers. Hit 'em, get ready for a brawl that makes Jerry look wicked tame. If you hang in though, you can bust a few down, and use whatever you think is phat."

Mostly said just to get an eye-roll, Faith rubbed the swab gently over the marred area on Buffy’s stomach. "'Urban girl' to the core."

"And that analogy works because you're such a globetrotter," the sarcastic patient snickered, trying not to wince at the disinfecting process.

"Can’t tell me Sunnydale wasn’t foreign territory."

Buffy considered that a moment, before agreeing completely. "Word."

Laughter spilled from both slayers for a long few seconds. They managed to pull themselves together so the covering could be applied, but not soon enough to avoid attracting the attention of Xander, who'd still been crater-gazing. As he came over, his friend got a good look at the mix of relief and pain on his face.

 

______

 

"Anya didn't...? Goddamn it," cursed Buffy.

Faith took the empty spot beside her, and exhaled. "I knew hopin' to get out clean was dumb from the go, but of all the people I thought we were gonna lose, never expected her to make the list."

She reached for the pack of cigarettes in her jacket pocket. "Had enough of this 'war' shit, B. I'm done, screw it."

She lit up as Xander reached them.

"What brought on the 'ha’s'?" Neither answered him, they only smiled weakly. "Is the patch crooked or something? C'mon, lay it on me—always a fan of a good 'ha.' I could, uh, actually go for the plural right about now...love those things."

"It was..." Buffy struggled with wanting to answer and console him, and she decided that the best way to get past the small talk, was to briefly be lame. "It was one of those 'in the moment' ha's...had to be here. Line wasn’t that punchy anyway."

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it firmly, her eyes welling. "Xander...I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

He kept his composure fairly well, though his voice was immediately rawer. "I can't—not now, Buf. Don't wanna spoil the 'victory loitering/afterglow.'"

A brave smile adorned his face. "We knew what we were enlisting for. Sometimes...there's a price."

But Buffy wasn't just talking about Anya. "That doesn't—"

"She went out all heroic, though. Knowing that...it kinda helps. Godzilla-sized plus." He squeezed back with his other hand, trying to reassure her. "Later, okay? And I see your apology and raise you, 'I overshot the line back there, sorry I still know how to be an ass.’"

Buffy released her grip, cleared her throat, and blinked the water out. "Okay."

"Cig?" Faith offered after she couldn't stand the silence, holding her pack out.

It surprised both her and Xander when Buffy popped one in her mouth and gestured to the lighter.

"What?" came the defensive response to their questioning stares. "I've earned the right to slowly kill myself if I want."

Her sister slayer shrugged, gave her a light, and observed as she inhaled...then coughed and wheezed.

"Uh, that's, uh...can I work my way up from the candy kind?" Buffy handed the offending object over to Xander, who chucked it to the ground and stomped on it. 

**{Yeah, she's got the right idea. Stay away from the hard stuff. ‘Less you’re me and know how to pull it off. But if he wants to laugh, no problem.}**

"Hey, Xander, you heard about that guy from Nantucket? Dude was into a little kink every now and then, so one day he’s at a gas station, chillin' ‘til the pump ran dry, and I guess he got bored—sorta sketchy on the details—‘cause the story goes that he slammed his dipstick into a bucket."

 

______

 

Her audience sent smirks her way, and before she could delve deeper into her version of the limerick (whose structure she'd already decimated), Giles walked down the aisle to the back of the bus.

"There isn't enough gasoline in the tank to put us anywhere remotely, ah, more pleasant than where we are at the moment," he told them.

"We could hitch!" Xander realized, thinking his plan to be solid. "I stretch the 'blind guy' sympathy card..."

"Ooh! Oh!" Andrew ran around to join them, his sudden hyperactivity and excitement dulling his depression. "If anyone has like, some nice, ruby slippers? They could click their heels and say, 'There's no place like Rivendale,' and then the Elven Council can send a rescue party."

Everyone who could hear him clearly, stared at him like he was crazy.

"Hey, it worked for Dorothy. All we have to do is believe." He saw everyone still just staring, and so he stormed off in a whiny huff.

"Somebody's gotta deprogram that kid. Medicate the hell out of him, whatever." Faith pretty much condensed what they had all thought, in one form or another.

Willow was kneeling on the seat to the right of where Giles stood, having moved to listen to Andrew's speech. "None of our cell phones are getting any signal. When the Hellmouth devours, it devours super thorough. No towers means no service, means totally stranded. Three of the girls need a hospital, fast; there's nothing else we can do."

Dawn turned white, slowly approaching the group. "I left my cell phone in the house! You know what that means? A slimy demon's probably using all my minutes! And I had rollover! Crap."

"We need to focus, guys," spoke Buffy calmly. "We can't stay here, and the odds of somebody driving this way are pretty low. Word of mouth must've spread like crazy when people had their exodusing idea, so, who would?"

That was when they heard the chopper coming, and they could also make out what looked to be a line of black vehicles moving toward them on the road. Faith turned her head to look at the tiny, petite woman, who was sheepish at the turn of events.

**{** **She had to ask.}**


	2. Part One: Chapter Two

The helicopter landed behind the stopped vehicles, and kept its blades spinning. A stretch limousine and two SUVs were parked a few feet away from the crowd. The eldest slayers looked at each other, shrugged in unison, and without a word, cautiously began walking up to the driver's side of the limo, hair blowing all the while.

"Ever see the X-Files?" Faith asked rhetorically, a nervous grin on her face.

"Once or twice," Buffy answered anyway, wearing the same expression. "I was really hoping not to hafta do any mysterious, 'Meet'N'Greets' for at least a half-an-hour, because cutting the basking short? Doesn't feel like winning."

"Maybe we should tell 'em to come back tonight. It'd help their image, you know? ‘Cause it's all about atmosphere."

"How ‘bout you do the telling, and I do the violence?"

Faith frowned. "You get to have all the fun."

Buffy smirked. "Duh."

Before Faith rapped her knuckles on the window, Buffy put a hand on her arm, asking her to hold on.

"There's something, um...I need to say. To you."

 

______

 

She caught the flash of fear in those brown eyes. It was her own fault. Sure, they'd fought alongside one another, had a couple, peaceful conversations, but she'd also slugged Faith twice and dredged up the past in front of everyone, out of desperation. Out of a need to stay in control.

Nothing that happened had to do with Faith at all. In fact, the anger had taken a hike a long time ago—she'd forgiven her. Only the message repeatedly sent was somehow the exact opposite.

Faith was afraid Buffy was going to say she was no longer useful, that she'd played her part, and now the murderer would be quietly disposed of at the first opportunity. No. She’d proven herself here, in L.A...and had voluntarily stayed behind bars for nearly three years. The past was the past.

 They were different people. Not only was it nice to have her back, it was also a relief. What better way to start off this new slate, then by giving their friendship another chance?

"If this is the First's backup plan...and a group of guys with Uzis jump out," Buffy figured there wasn't time to avoid the point, "I just want you to know...that I appreciate you looking out for me. You've been doing it since you got here, and it means a lot, really.

"I'm sorry, too. Sorry for being a jerk before, and for the face punching, which I'm gonna try not to do anymore. Far as I'm concerned, we're good; I...I want us to be." She took a breath. "Ready?"

Faith broke out into a wide grin, and you could see her physically relax. Once they got out of here, fun was going to be had—there were four years to make up. "Always."

 

______

 

Then the car window slid down, and the slayers each let loose a surprised scream, jumping back about a foot. So much for the tough, unflappable world saviors.

"Man, you just see the wind knock me back? And I think I tripped...road must be messed up."

Buffy nodded, hoping to cover her embarrassment. "They should definitely repave. And breezes are dangerous; never underestimate a breeze."

"Um, excuse me, Miss Summers?" The limo driver got their attention, holding a cell phone in his outstretched hand. "Mr. Angel would like to speak with you."

Again the slayers exchanged looks with each other, and then Buffy addressed the driver. "Who are you, how is Angel on the phone—because ours are just fancy paperweights—and since when’s that his last name?"

"He start pimpin' on the side?" Faith queried, her interest piqued. "Because that'd be a sweet pimp name."

"Faith, not helping." Though Buffy agreed, she had to keep up a front.

The driver answered in a business-like manner. "Mr. Angel is CEO of the Los Angeles branch of 'Wolfram & Hart,' as well as my employer, and the cellular technology we've developed is far less limited than what's currently on the market."

He saw the unsettled, somewhat harder expression on Faith’s face, and decided to stop talking before his professional demeanor devolved into endless stuttering.

"But please...he's waiting."

Buffy took the phone then, handling it like something that might be poisonous; she risked it in the hope that explanations would come from the other end.

"Angel?" She smiled and exhaled with relief upon hearing his voice. "So what's the deal? ... A little, but I should've expected. You never did listen to me ... Yes, I'm glad you butted in. Also? Impressed ... Yeah, noticed. Why do you have 'teams' to place anywhere?"

She started walking and talking.

 

______

 

That left Faith somewhat alone with the driver. She opened the door and leaned against the inside of it, laying her hand across the top edge. Eying him, she was happy with the fact that he was visibly shaking.

"All right—tell me the sitch. Do you people have somethin' on him? They stick his soul in another jar? ‘Cause I was planning some major downtime, and I can't be pulling his ass from the fire every other week. That's not fair, yeah?" She kicked her leg out and hit the leather seat; its occupant's knee-jerk reaction was to jerk his knee into the steering wheel. "Hey, I'm askin' questions, here. Better like the answers."

Wincing and holding his injured area, he tried to comply. "I'm...I'm only the-the driver. I don't know...any-anything about—"

She scowled, and just before she could get up into his face, Buffy was back, directing her to turn around by pressing on her shoulder. Her victim immediately shut the door, locked it, and rolled up the window.

"I was just bad-coppin’ him, B."

"I know, and if we had time I’d play too, but we have to move, because I don't wanna be on the news," Buffy explained, still on the line. "Angel says it's all legit and official, by the way."

Faith opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off.

"He promises he didn't sell out...not exactly. Anyway, he'll explain later, because these guys are here to take us to his place, where we're gonna crash for a while." She paused as she got an understanding nod. "The helicopter has stretchers, so whoever needs it most has a ride to the nearest hospital, express. Limo's for us and the gang, and the SUVs are for the girls. Can you help get everybody situated?"

"Already doing it."

"That was fast."

"S' how I work."

 

______

 

Buffy smiled as Faith went to fill in the exhausted troops, and then her ex began speaking again. "What? ... No, Faith and I are meshing ... We're fine; swell as always."

Ears burning, Faith turned around to give her a special finger, smiling sweetly.

"Angel? Hang on a sec."

Putting phone in her pocket for a moment, she showed two fingers to Faith's back.

Faith turned again in the middle of relaying instructions, saw, and had to commend her. "You went for the double? Mm, gotta respect that. Didn't see ya as the type, but hey, guess when you like your meat 62.3..."

She winked.

"Oh yeah, how'd the Big Guy react to—?"

"How do you know he's big?" Buffy posed, half-joking and accusing.

That was over fast, however, as what she said registered. Buffy cupped her hands over her mouth, eyes going wide.

"Oh shit." She scrambled to retrieve the phone. "You didn't hear that, did you? ... Nothing, it was nothing ... We were just, uh, doing flips. It's a thing. Way better than fighting to the death. I think we're growing. Um, I gotta go."

Faith had the decency to wait until the phone was off to crack up, and there was a second finger exchange as Buffy went to speak to the chopper pilot.

"Dang," Kennedy commented, "that was a whole lot of fucking."

Giles and Willow both turned red, while Dawn supported her friend. "Well it was."


	3. Part One: Chapter Three

"Yo, Woodpecker, time to fly. You up for it?" Faith asked with a grin as she hopped up the three steps onto the school bus.

Robin was partially sitting up. He was managing, but still needed medical attention. No one could tell for sure how bad off he was.

"Mm, that was...clever. Filled with layered...embarrassing references to my manhood and pride as a guy, but clever."

She shrugged. "I'm deep."

"I've noticed," he said, his eyebrows scrunching together. "But I thought all the room was taken."

"Rona gave up her spot; wants to tough it out," Faith told him, smirking. "Girl's the real deal now—being stubborn's part of the package. That and the quick healin’; yours skipped a generation. Too bad it wasn't passed down."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Did Buffy say—?"

She shook her head, smiling a little sympathetically. "Just got a vibe. Since the power's been cut loose, it's like...bridges’re down, and we’re all linked up. Past, present...it’s a trip."

Vi came up behind her as the ex-principal absorbed this information.

"Stretcher's outside,” continued Faith. “We're gonna lift you off, get you loaded."

"Could you...give us a minute?" He requested of the other girl, who nodded.

"I'll just, um...go wait, somewhere...away, but not too far away, ‘cause..." Vi rambled, before silencing herself. "Sorry."

She exited back down the steps, blushing.

______

 

Once she was gone, Faith sighed. "Look, Robin, whatever you're gonna—"

"After they discharge me, I'm probably going straight home. To New York. There's...someone I haven't gotten around to visiting for a while, and it's about time I did." They both knew that someone was his mother. "Then I was thinking I could get a real life."

"Oh." She wasn't expecting that.

"You're welcome to come with me...if you want; I'd like the company." He smiled at her, hopeful but realistic. "I know the offer doesn't seem too attractive right now, but if you look past the bloody wounds and bruises..."

Okay, this she had expected, and after hesitating a second, "I told you, me and relationships don't mix. Kinda like B that way."

Apparently, given his look, she was the only one who found that amusing.

"I'm not worth the risk, all right?"

"You don't give yourself a lot of credit, do you, Faith?"

"Might not, but this ain't the best time to have this conversation."

"Well, having it later isn't really an option, because long distance phone calls aren't exactly personal, so just try to bare with me," he continued when she kneeled down—it was hard to blow off somebody who took one for the team. "I've been single most of my life; avenging a loved one's death is pretty much all-consuming—long hours, little sleep.

“My relationship skills aren't exactly up to par, either. All I'm sure of, is that you're a person I'd enjoy getting to know, even if it's difficult sometimes. You're fun, dedicated, enthusiastic..."

She laughed lightly as he went on.

"In my opinion, you are worth it, and I'd prefer not to leave without you...doesn't that say something?"

"Yeah. Good call on those skills," she cracked.

Before he could get his glare on, she was serious again.

"You probably stick by all that, and I’m not gonna lie...girl could get used to hearing it. Been a long time since I met a guy like you. Truth is though, you could keep talkin' ‘til you're so blue, it scares the ebony off ya. I'm just not ready to plunge in."

She turned her head towards the door for a second, seeing everyone rushing about, and then focused back on him.

"I want another shot; wanna hang with Buffy too, ‘cause somethin' tells me it's gonna be a blast and a half. Gotta stay and find out."

 

______

 

As much as Robin respected Buffy, he still didn't understand why people grew so attached to her. Admittedly, his view was skewed—he resented the “Slayer” attitude she carried. The sooner he was able to make peace with his mother, the better.

He asked, "Does she realize how much you care about her?"

Geez, did he have her pegged or what?

"It's nothing new, so yeah, I had to guess,” answered Faith. “I'm lucky, one of these days it'll be mutual."

"I've watched enough TV to see that you're trying to tell me you just wanna be friends, which I can graciously accept," he smiled, however, there was a twinge of disappointment in his voice.

"Sorry," she offered in lame consolation.

"Don’t be—isn't anything you can help." He absolved her of any guilt. "If the opportunity ever comes, you think you'll be ready to plunge, then?"

"I dunno. We both got stuff goin' on that'd make a shrink mad rich. Just have to work through it, see where we land," Faith said with frankness. "Best way to do that is step back and take a breather, because that 'being alone,' slayer thing? Isn't bullshit.

“You can't explain it, but it's there. Puts you on a different level; hurts when ya don't fit. But then you cross paths with the only other person on the whole friggin' planet who gets the life, and bam—no feeling like it."

She smiled a grateful smile. "The rest of 'em never hafta go through that, but we did. S' why even when I played for the black hats, we couldn't go the extra mile."

Only now did he grasp the fact that this was barely scratching the surface of their relationship. Just by looking in her eyes he could see that, and it left him stunned.

"You weren't kidding about the history," he said.

 

______

 

"'Complex' doesn't even begin to cover," Buffy said, having been standing on the steps for the past twenty-five to thirty seconds. "But that's what makes us so attractive."

Faith grinned at a shocked Robin. "Says it all right there."

"Vi got relieved; I'm 'Chauffer Number 2' now. I promise, if there's any dropping, it'll be Faith's fault," Buffy quipped with a grin of her own.

"Won't matter, I'll just pin it on her," retorted Faith. "Now can we get off the big, damn, yellow bus?"

"Good luck, take care of yourself," he whispered to her before they picked him up.

"Back at ya," she smiled reassuringly at him. "And thanks." The next part was spoken louder. "You gotta keep in touch; can't forget about us."

"I'll surprise you, don't worry."

They shared the inside joke, and then both slayers got him onto the stretcher and into the helicopter. Over the noise of the whirring blades, he yelled to them, asking that they pass on his goodbyes to the group. The pair backed away from the flying machine, and watched as it took off.

 

______

 

When it was only a speck in the sky, Faith turned to her companion. "I didn't know Willow could C-P a chopper."

The woman in question had been sitting in the copilot seat.

Buffy smirked, responding as they headed to the limo. "She's always wanted to ride. Except her official excuse was that she should go with them because, 'I'm a witch, and we're very handy to have around. Just in case.'"

She held open the rear door for Faith when they reached the vehicle.

"Dawn and Andrew wanted to go with the girls, Giles and Xander are up front. Giles thought we could use the space. And Angel suddenly owes Xander, so he's gonna make the driver 'Limo' him all over L.A. when we get there."

Laughing, Faith slid in, claiming the large, lengthy, leather seat on the left, while Buffy claimed the right, shutting the door. They were definitely catching some Z's in this. Smacking the power window behind her head, Faith signaled that it was time to go.

"He shoulda waited on us."

"He would have if you hadn't freaked him," Buffy pointed out as they started moving.

"Then let him cry me a river," Faith snorted unaffectedly, laying and stretching out.

Buffy followed Faith's example, finding it extremely comfortable. "Know what I've been thinking about?"

Faith looked at her from the other seat.

"Because we changed the rules, the 'Slayer' reason for us not getting along sorta doesn't hold up anymore."

"What's that mean?" Faith wondered.

"I was hoping we could, uh, maybe start over, only do a better job this time. With the 'friends' part," elaborated Buffy slowly. "After sleep."

She heard no acknowledgement, and was too nervous to look, but still ventured out farther onto the limb. "’Cause I missed you."

Across from her, the brunette smiled hugely, up at the ceiling. "Missed you, too."

A pleasant silence settled over them for a few minutes, until the also-smiling blonde ended it. "Oh...Faith?"

"Yeah?"

"I stopped being the 'One and Only' years ago."

Any lingering tension lifted at that, and once Faith heeded her fellow passenger's warnings, agreeing not to sing—badly or at all—“Road to Nowhere” ever again, it was a peaceful, restful trip all the way to Los Angeles.


	4. Part One: Chapter Four

A little past 12:30 in the morning, Buffy woke up in what she assumed was one of the rooms inside Angel's hotel. She hadn't actually been to the Hyperion before, but since the décor bore an uncanny resemblance to a room that would belong in a hotel, she didn't think she was making too big a leap. How she got here she wasn't sure, but she was grateful to whoever let her sleep.

Still, that meant somebody had to carry her in, and she blushed at the thought. Sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stretched and yawned.

Everyone else had said they were going to find places to sleep the minute they arrived, but from the sound of things, they'd all woken up several hours ago. She could hear Andrew's voice traveling through the hall, and Faith's more agitated one, though it wasn't because the two were in the same room together. Which was definitely a good thing.

Curious now, she stood and headed into the hall, towards the nearest person. Andrew was surrounded by a swarm of giggling, teenage girls excitedly giving him a makeover. Peeking into the room, she couldn't see him because her view was blocked, so she just listened.

"This moisturizer is really soft. And I kinda like the 'Plum Passion' lipstick...it calls attention to my eyes. Don't you think I have the best eyes? They so express the deep pain and love that's in my bright, yet tortured soul. Can I have more blush?"

Buffy hurried away, muffling her laughter. It was amazing that he was ever capable of anything villainous. Her feet came to a halt after the next few doors, and something told her it was Angel's room. There were no obvious indicators; she only got that feeling...like she always did where he was concerned. But he wasn't in it.

Faith, a cocky, black man, a twig-skinny brunette, and Kennedy were crowded around a television and a _PlayStation 2_ , seemingly engrossed. She guessed that the new people were Fred and Gunn, from what Angel told her last year. Her questions about when he'd developed a video game habit passed when Faith exclaimed—

"What the fuck, Chuck? You can't just perch up there and snipe!"

"There ain't no rules. You just can't handle that I got the win locked, and I know you don't want me toastin' your wheels again, ‘cause I own this game...proof's all in the record," Gunn taunted mercilessly, while cracking his knuckles. "Bet that chowdah soup you used to chug is finally catching up, slowin' you down."

"Uh, Charles? I could be wrong—gosh knows it wouldn't be the first time I was—but...I'm pretty positive she can pound you into next Thursday. Then she'll create a fold in our temporal reality, drag you back here to the past, which I guess is technically the present, and do it all over," Fred warned her ex, laughing at her own “theoretical humor.” "Just sayin'."

He didn't know when to heed. "And I'm just sayin' maybe she oughta hang it up, work in some practice 'fore she tries tangling with the big dog. Can I help it if I have the finesse?"

Scowling, Faith swore she would not be beaten on her territory. She used to rule _Twisted Metal 2_ , and he was getting his smug ass dethroned.

"Whatever, man, ‘cause if I wasn't reform..." She enjoyed letting that hang there for a moment. "I'm all outta white flags—hit the damn button."

The level of concentration that shone on her face was astonishing; it was the kind of focus one usually reserved for slaying, filtering out every other distraction. Because of this, Buffy momentarily debated silently entering the room and spooking the crap out of her. But then Willow came up holding a thin, tall, pink candle.

Turning around, Buffy knew exactly what it was for.

 

______

 

"Goodie, you're awake. I didn't wanna get you up and have you be cranky," grinned Willow as Buffy put an arm across her shoulders. "We're ready, I think." Beat. "Oh! And the doctor at the hospital said only happy things."

Hands grasped as Willow led them to the stairs, and they descended. On the way here, before she succumbed to extreme tiredness, Buffy, Willow, Giles and Xander agreed—thanks to a particular witch's telepathic abilities—that they do this as soon as possible.

In the lobby, there was a card table set up, which Wesley was shuffling at. Angel and a green-skinned demon wearing a loud, lavender suit, sat around it with him. Seeing Buffy, all the men stood.

She and Willow walked over, and Buffy released their digits to give her ex a strong, warm hug. They smiled at each other as it finished.

"You look...rested," he observed, and with a single glance, gave his condolences about Spike.

Words would've killed his good intentions.

"I am," she assured, her tiny smile communicating that she received them. "Comfy place you got here; not lacking with the space, either. Thanks for taking us in."

"Was the least I could do." He saw the slayer's eyes repeatedly going back to the strange demon she didn't know. "Buffy, this is Lorne. He works with us. He used to have a bar, but it, uh, blew up. Anyway, he's a good friend."

"Who cares if it's not physically possible? You're gonna make me blush, Angelcakes! Can't fool me with that 'Dark Hero' shtick anymore, ya big faker," Lorne told him, much to the vampire's embarrassment. "After today, don't you dare try to sell it, because I'm not buying."

Turning to their petite guest, he extended his hand. "Well, aren't you a peach cobbler?" They shook. "Nice to finally meet you, sweetie."

"You too," she replied.

It was odd how fast his voice put her at ease.

She looked to the ex-watcher, then. "Hey, Wes."

"It's good to see you, Buffy," Wesley acknowledged her with a genuine smile, something he hadn't produced for a while. "When we heard the news that you all were coming, we were...very relieved."

He spoke with a weariness that told her she had lots to be filled in on.

"Though given how Faith described the battle, I'd say 'extremely' is more fitting an adjective. I wish I could've been there, honestly."

"No you don't," echoed the survivors, and then Buffy asked the obvious question, "Where's Cordy?"

By the trio of uncomfortable, achingly pained expressions, she knew she'd said the wrong thing, and it was Angel who appeared worst off.

"Tomorrow I'm gonna show you the new office, and I'll...take you to see her." He paused. "You should hurry; it's supposed to rain."

She nodded and went to the doors that led out into the courtyard with Willow, then turned back to face her host. "You know, they're really getting mileage out of that game upstairs. It's scary."

Once the pair left, Angel concernedly asked his employees and closest of friends, "Do you think they'll break it?"


	5. Part One: Chapter Five

Giles, Dawn and Xander were waiting. Moving off of the raised, balcony area, Buffy sat beside her sister on the edge of the fountain, while Willow placed the candle on the ground, among a mix of dozens of red, white, and peach-colored roses. Behind them, propped up against the wooden bench, her sister's delicately written, cursive handiwork could be seen on a large piece of poster board, done in violet and blue magic marker.

The moonlight supplied a perfect view even through the gathering clouds.

"Seems as though the weather's holding off," Giles commented, as grateful as the rest of his family for that.

"Storms are really more thoughtful than people think. But does anybody notice? Not so much. Always comes back to property damage, which is, yeah, _awesome_ if you're in construction...still, big nay to one-sided looking at," Xander chimed in, twirling the stem of a red rose between his thumb and finger, pondering. "Unless it’s vampires."

Buffy smirked. "Angel being the exception."

"’Cause you'd have nowhere to go if it wasn't for him," Willow added, going to join the Summers' girls on the fountain.

"Hey, me and Angel are close pals. It's just that, for us, 'talking'—and most of your basic hand gestures? Waste of time," Xander told his doubting friends. "Our manly bond is so rock-solid, we don't hafta do the obvious thing."

"Like," Dawn was smirking now, "actually showing it in front of people?"

"Exactly," he confirmed. "Sometimes I forget I even like the guy."

"I'm amazed you were able to hide your true feelings for this long, Xander," Giles said, dryly sarcastic. "Clearly none of us had the slightest clue...well done."

"Did Giles just pull a 'gay' joke? On me?" Stupefied, the younger man looked to anyone for an answer.

 

______

 

"It's perfect." Buffy indicated the poster board to her sister, after rolling her eyes at the tangent that had wandered into the land of crazy talk.

"Really?" Dawn brightened a little. "I think it's kinda dorky. I wanted to do more, but..."

Sighing with frustration, she picked up a yellow rose that was lying next to her.

"Oh, we, uh...we got this for Spike. I thought you might wanna...you know, put it with the others."

"Thanks." Buffy accepted the rose with a smile. "And it isn't dorky—far from. The whole point is just to let them know how much they meant to us...not to be huge and flashy." Dawn's head came to rest on her shoulder. "I think they get the message."

The poster board started off with the heading, “We Love You and Miss You.” Then it went on to list names down two columns in the middle: “Mom,” “Miss Calendar,” “Anya,” “Tara,” “Spike,” “Kendra,” “Jesse,” “Amanda”...even Cassie and the Potentials who lost their lives. Andrew had asked her to put Jonathan's name as well, so she did.

He, Faith, Kennedy and everyone would come to pay their respects, just not tonight. They thought it should be “Scoobies Only” the first time.

There was a photograph on either side of the columns. On the left was a group shot taken at Christmas a couple years ago that included Joyce, Tara, and Anya. The right photo was of Giles and Jenny, after she'd forced him to stand in front of a monster truck.

At the time it had bordered on being the most vexing night of his life, and now it was a night he recalled often, and fondly. That’s what they were all doing—reflecting and giving a small, deserved tribute.

Buffy nodded at Willow while gently running her fingers along her sister's brown locks. "Go ahead, Will."

With a thought and a tiny flick of the wrist, Willow magickally lit the candle; the orange-blue flame seemed to contentedly sway and bob on the wick.

 

______

 

Xander was the first to go stand in front of their modest memorial, and as he squatted down, he placed the rose for Anya among the others. "Hey, Ahn. How's it going up there?"

He smiled and the tears that wanted to spill in Sunnydale finally did. It felt like a long time before he spoke again.

"Muscle your way up the ladder yet? Well, if a plague starts wiping out the long-eared and furry, I'm guessing that'll be a pretty big sign," he joked lightly.

"I like how I turned out. Even have a little pride, which you get all credit for, because my lazy ass needed a jumpstart—just wanted ya to know that. Swear I'll try to be a model for men everywhere."

He felt Buffy's hand on his shoulder. "Love you, honey. Wish you were still here."

Pulling Xander in for a comforting embrace, Buffy let Willow have him a few seconds later, as she knelt down with her sister.

Dawn's voice was quiet. "Wow, uh, hi, you guys." She didn't know what to say. "Oh, Amanda, remember that time in Mr. Johnson's class when he said that the people in Ethiopia were starving and Catie Mackenzie thought it was because Ethiopia was some poor, Indie band without a label? And during the sleepover when Molly dared Dani to...?"

Given the way her sister was staring, she had a feeling going further would be the wrong thing.

"N-never mind. Just tell everyone we'll miss them, that they were amazingly brave, and that Buffy promises never to make another speech again." She ignored the gasp. "Mommy? If Spike's with you, watch out for him, okay? He did a lot for us. Of good things. Including helping Buffy while we were kinda being stupid, so...please?

"And Anya? You were pretty crazy...but I shoulda realized sooner that you were pretty cool, too. We love you guys," she smiled.

The sisters held each other close as they cried together.

"Can't top that, and I won't try." Then Buffy set her rose down. "But we survived this long, we won, because you were all a part of our lives and got us here. So if there was a grand plan, you were definitely the important pieces...I know it in my heart. Thank you."

Her expression darkened. "Though it'd be nice if the whole concept of 'dying' didn't exist, ‘cause then I wouldn't have to do this." She took a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry."

After Buffy and Dawn moved away to allow Giles his turn, their father figure stood viewing the memorial solemnly, waiting for rehearsed words that wouldn't come.

 

______

 

He thought of Jenny, Joyce, and Anya above all, as he knew them best. However, he did offer his sincerest apologizes to Spike, because if not for him, they wouldn't be here.

He'd grossly misjudged the vampire, and hadn't trusted Buffy's judgment—he couldn't help but feel partly responsible for her near unraveling close to the end. There were severe repairs to be made.

Clearing his throat, he redirected his attention to the present. Having made his peace with two of the women years ago, and not wishing to reopen those particular wounds, Giles thought on his once-employee. He smiled at the memory of her.

For someone who'd committed over a millennium's worth of horrible acts, she had an incredible innocence. If she were crass, or rude, or insulting, one couldn't stay mad at her, because very rarely did she realize when she'd crossed a social line. Most often, her outbursts came from a place of curiosity, of truth.

Whether Anya knew of it consciously or not, she was always trying to learn. Learn about the species she'd harmed for so long. Perhaps that was her way of apologizing—understanding the complexities of people made it harder to cause them pain.

Guilt and self-punishment were unavoidable, and though she didn't advertise it, there were times when the shop was empty, when she was idly counting money at the register, that he could tell what went on behind her eyes.

What did Anya have to show for her efforts? To him, she became more of a human being in four years, than most did in a lifetime.

She died as one, helping to save them all. With words failing him, a song entered his head, which he uttered softly, almost to himself.

"Can't forget...what happened yesterday...Though my friends say, don't look back...I can feel it, coming through me...Like an echo...Like a photograph..." He removed his glasses to wipe his eyes as he finished, and said in a choked voice, "Goodbye."

Soon he was at the center of a group bear hug, their eyes as red as his. The starting rain signaled it was time to head inside, thankfully. His circulation could return.

 

______

 

Gentle drips became a steady downpour within seconds, and Dawn and Xander were first to rush in. Willow just knelt by the flowers, ignoring the rain, telling them she'd be there in a while—she hadn't taken her turn yet. Buffy and Giles didn't protest; they found cover under the balcony, and watched water fall around Willow, but never on.

"Neat," Buffy commented for both of them.

Whatever shielded the witch was soundproof as well as waterproof, or they would've noticed the greeting of, “Hi, baby.”

Giles broke himself out of his mournful state when his thoughts drifted to the future. He'd tried to plan a course of action all day, but had hit a snag that he truly could've used Anya's help with.

"Buffy, I, uh...I've been trying to think of ways to get in touch with and organize these new slayers, wherever they may be. They need training, they need to be stationed in the more...demon-intensive areas...in short, I'd like to form a new Council. But, hopefully it wouldn't be quite as—"

"Asinine as the original?" Buffy quipped, and then congratulated herself. "Finally used 'asinine' in a sentence...go me." Beat. "All right, half a sentence."

"I'm very proud," he said sardonically, before concentrating on his point. "If we could move on? I was able to, ah, liberate a good deal of money from the Council's accounts before leaving England, though it won't do much good in the long term—our resources are sorely lacking.

“I do have a few contacts, but none, I doubt, who would want to join in on...such a risky undertaking," he sighed. "The Council's capital came from persons and demons older than I, with similar, outdated ideals. I'd have very little incentive to offer."

"That's not true. You're...a go-getter. That's gotta count for something." She tried to weakly lift his spirits while considering the options. "So you need a backer. How about the government? They're over the whole, 'Science! Wow!' phase, big on extermination.

“I could give Riley a call at...uh, I don't think it's really a flower shop, but maybe it's a side thing. For pocket money. Anyway, he might know the right people to ask."

"It's worth a try," he responded, feeling somewhat better. "In the meantime, perhaps Willow can post a notice to the Internet asking for—"

"Uh-uh. Bad idea," Buffy interrupted, derailing that idea fast. "You don't say, 'Looking for young, limber girls with special talents,' on the Internet. Especially you. Do I hafta say why?"

Giles coughed. "I suppose that can wait."

Could he tell that she really didn't want to talk shop as they headed inside? She wanted far away from shop.

"Uh, Giles? You were joking about Cleveland, right?"

He looked hurt. "Yes, of course it was a joke. I figured it was obvious."

Who would put a Hellmouth there?

"Sorry," she apologized, trying to hold back a laugh. "But ‘you and funny,’ kind of a rare thing. Maybe if you worked on it..."

Now he stared in disbelief. "What do you mean? I've been funny on a number of occasions; it isn't my fault if you didn't appreciate them."

"No...no, you're right. You have," she conceded quickly, and innocently posed, "Were, um, any of ‘em intentional?"

"What about with Xander, out-outside just now, and-and when I—?"

"Oh, come on. Anybody can be sarcastic and quippy. Besides, Xander's an easy target," she told him, pretending to be unimpressed. "I dunno, maybe I just don't get British humor. From this side of the ocean, it looks like the only thing you guys laugh at over there, are naked people. How am I supposed to know?"

She raised her hand. "American."

His face was red with embarrassment. "You can't be serious."

Dropping the charade, she smiled at him. "Nope. I'm not."

Standing on the tips of her toes, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Don't ever change, Giles."

Then she went upstairs.

As he smiled, Lorne walked over, glass in hand, freezing the poker game. "Sea Breeze?"


	6. Part One: Chapter Six

Some twenty minutes later, Willow joined Gunn, Fred, and three slayers in Angel's room, where the video game tournament was still going strong.

Talking in the courtyard to a hopefully listening Tara, she could've sworn she felt that familiar, calming presence nearby. Despite carrying the conversation, she still felt amazingly connected to her former lover. She shared everything.

The events of the past year, how much she missed her, how much she loved her. When Kennedy came up, she admitted that she cared for the new slayer and was grateful, but it wasn't the same. The way Kennedy looked at her, with total adoration, she hadn't been able to match. With Tara, it wasn't a question; it was just there.

Time—she had to give it time. Convincing herself that she could concentrate on “them” for the foreseeable future, Willow put on a mostly genuine smile and sat on the arm of her girlfriend's chair, offering silent support as the virtual battle raged on.

Faith turned to look at her from the floor, where she lay on her stomach next to Buffy, and grabbed a beer out of the ice bucket on her other side.

"Might as well catch up."

 

______

 

Willow accepted the beverage just as Buffy and Fred frantically screamed, "Turn, quick! He's gonna fire!"

That's when Kennedy's chosen vehicle, Warthog, blew into pieces.

"Jackass," she grumbled. Gunn had heard worse.

Kennedy pulled her witch onto her lap, and handed the controller over to Faith.

Pausing in her leg duel with Buffy—whoever knocked the other person's socks off first, in the literal sense, won—Faith held their bowl of devoured pretzels up to the reigning champion.

"Refill it, will ya, Mos Def? We're out. But when you get back, this is gettin' settled," she swore.

He went without argument, as this was their way to humble him just a bit. It didn't matter that he could wipe the floor with their pixels, because they could wipe the floor with his live person. But he had to let them know—

"If Angel didn't get cheap on us and pay for this ancient-ass coaster—“

He was out of the room before any of the thrown shoes met with his head.

"Damn cue ball," Faith had had just about enough, "knockin' a modern classic like that."

Buffy saw the break in the action as an opportunity to finally have a question answered. "Where was I when Angel joined this century?"

"Uh, well, you were in Sunnydale, B, and...he was here." Her partner-in-slay spoke as if addressing a child. "In L.A. It's a city. Lotsa streets and stuff, y’know? Tall buildings..."

"Bitch." Buffy stuck her tongue out and kicked Faith in the leg.

 

______

 

While Fred explained something about how the Wolfram and Hart contract promised them signing bonuses, and that their boss went on an “Electronics Impulse-Buying Spree,” Willow was more interested in the easy rapport between once enemies. It felt like it’d existed for far longer than factual history would lead her to believe.

She'd had her suspicions for years concerning certain things that might've taken place, things that were named once she became aware of her gaiety, but most of all, there was an enviable comfortableness. And though it appeared to spring up out of thin air, she knew it hadn’t. It was just never allowed to be seen before.

Well, she was seeing it now, in all its subtle glory. On the less-obvious end, they were laughing and talking in close bodily proximity, shoulders loose, relaxed. On the extreme end, they were playing “Footsie,” for Goddess' sake.

A more competitive, rough-around-the-edges brand, but “Footsie” nonetheless. Not that she was anti-feet, but come on, it was Buffy and Faith. Weirder still?

Buffy was smiling. From plain-old, normal enjoyment of life. Specifically, enjoyment of “Video Game Bonding.” Surprise, surprise.

 

______

 

"How's the other game?" Fred asked, bringing Willow out of her musings. "Downstairs. Did you see?"

Willow smirked, remembering how the men frowned at her as she re-entered the lobby. "If Dawnie keeps winning, she's gonna have a pretty hefty college fund. 'Guy pride' is so fragile."

Smirking became hesitant smiling. "She used to play poker with Spike all the time."

She was relieved when her best friend didn't sink into depression at the mention of his name.

"There's no way he taught her how to win, though," Buffy grinned at her memory. "He was always losing kittens."

Faith shrugged. "Least he could still suck at somethin'. Nah, wait...you two boinked regular, yeah? Had to be some sucking somewhere—he do most of it, or was it fifty-fifty?"

A week ago that would've gotten her a punch in the jaw, but Buffy's response was spoken through still grinning lips. "Forget it. I'm not giving you fantasy-fuel. And like you didn’t keep all your contrabandy jail por—?”

"I'd edit out the Vamp, anyway. I like feelin' that warmth where it counts. Fred knows, don'tcha, Tex?" Faith interrupted with a wink, making the southerner blush. "'Sides, couple visuals of you is all I need."

"This is where I’m supposed to be flattered, right?" Buffy replied.

"Doesn't mean I didn't get any action on the Block; girl's gotta pop when she can." Faith must have had that grin trademarked she was so good at it.

"Liar," Buffy called her bluff. "You know you were totally celibate."

Faith raised her eyebrows. "I was?"

"Yes. One, because it's...seriously unsanitary." Buffy made a “yuck” face. "And two, ‘cause you don't like _women_. Do you?"

Willow couldn't help but notice the emphasis on the plural, and the intense gaze. Everyone waited. Faith eventually shook her head no.

 

______

 

Kennedy broke the silence. "Here I was starting to think we weren't the only gay chicks in the room."

She reminded the slayers that they weren't having a private conversation, and Willow filed this away as Fred volunteered—

"Well, I-I think I'm bi, most likely. In high school, my friends and I, we'd hang out and smoke weed and usually do... _things_. ‘Til the bag ran out anyways. It was fun and we weren't hurtin' nobody. Pot's really not as evil as people say. I mean, I didn't think it was so terrible."

She giggled secretively, breaking to sip her beer. "But one day I came to class stoned. Like, so completely baked. I forget what happened exactly, but I do remember they told my folks. Then I, uh, had to stop for a while. Thank goodness I went to college."

When the stunned silence lifted, Faith was the first to laugh, and then they all did. The kind where it seemed impossible to stop. At the end, she had an apology to give.

"Damn, was I off about you. Somewhere _far_. Anybody asked, I woulda sworn you were as laced as they come—like these two." She gestured to Buffy and Willow. "Before they started doin' all sorts of wild and freaky—"

"Kennedy!" Willow exclaimed, seeing the guilty look immediately. "You didn't...did you? ‘Cause, you-you can't! Private bedroom stuff is supposed to stay...private bedroom stuff! Goddess, that's like, an-an unspoken rule. Big and important, like all unspoken rules. But you just went ahead and broke it, a-and—"

"And I was bragging," her girlfriend said, trying to lighten the blow with a kiss. "Because you're talented, and she's a horny ex-con who hasn't had any since she got out; except with a guy, which never counts. I had to rub it in."

She pouted like a scolded puppy. "Just couldn't pass it up—forgive me?"

"No, I'm a fugitive," corrected Faith, as if she were proud of it. "Least ‘til tomorrow when I'm sprung official. Angel's workin' the system."

She looked up at Fred, grinning. "Wanna celebrate? Show me some of those things? Buffy here might wanna test you, though. Make sure you're clean. She's into my sex-life now; doesn't want me catching."

"Don't worry, I'm awful squeaky these days," Fred promised, glad Gunn wasn't here for this part.

 

______

 

Buffy had tuned out of the conversation. Her eyes were on the car selection screen of _Twisted Metal 2_. She'd spent the past couple minutes wracking her brain until the pieces came together, and now she excitedly gripped Faith's arm, and whispered into her ear.

Then Faith ditched the other conversation, eyes wide and gleaming. "Son of a bitch...I forgot that code! How'd you even...?"

"A kid I used to counsel at school would only talk to me if we spent half the time on video games and magazines about video games. Guess it just stuck," shrugged Buffy.

"You rock, B."

"Yeah...think I might actually.” Buffy felt giddy. “Hurry, put it in."

The code was entered and the car selected, much to the devilish delight of all the vengeful females in the room. Anya would've felt right at home.

"All we got left is corn chips. So eat up and let's go," Gunn announced as he re-entered the room, chucking the bowl in Faith's direction. "Dunno why you keep comin'. You know I'm just gonna school you—for the hundredth time tonight."

"Where's the salsa?" Buffy inquired, fruitlessly searching for the necessary dipping condiment.

Hearing that just added flames to Faith’s fire. "Get ready to burn," she grinned wickedly. "Anything goes."

The thrashing didn't take but a minute once he was settled. Gunn froze the instant he saw the giant, black battle-tank, Minion, on the top half of the television screen. Faith rammed and fired her way to a quick, yet satisfying victory. Releasing the controller, she high-fived her partner in crime, breathing in the suddenly sweeter air.

Gunn would eventually rise and go home, maybe do some pushups, forgetting this ever happened.

 

______

 

"Now I'm hungry...we're going for Chinese. Oughta be enough time to lay out the whole, shitty soap opera they’ve been livin’ here. Trust me, it's wicked fucked," Faith told Buffy, getting them both to their feet. "Not tired, are ya?"

"Wide awake. Egg rolls are my weakness." Buffy was all for it. "Which you know."

"Nothing says ‘thanks for the assist’ better than some Lei-Lei. Wouldn't've stomped him without you."

There was another thing that thanked, but it wasn't in the cards right now.

Faith cleared her throat. "You got cash?"

She received an eye-roll as they followed the girlfriends into the hallway.

"We'll be busy," Kennedy smirked, a playful glint in her eye as she dragged Willow along. "But save us the leftovers."

The slayers traded grins because there wouldn't be any. Then it occurred to Buffy that, "We don't drive."

Faith missed her point.

"It's still raining."

Fred jogged up with a remedy to their problem. "Hey, I have an umbrella. If you get me tacos on the way back..."

"Oh my god. _Churros_. Deal," said Buffy, chuckling as their helpful new friend went to fetch their protection.

"She's cool," said Faith, to which Buffy nodded agreeably. "But I'm outta practice, and she's not the way to go. Maybe when we find the place..." She trailed off, thinking to herself. "Aren't Chinese guys the ones who know all those positions?"

"You're thinking of Indians. They wrote that book— _The Karma...Something_.” Buffy paused for a beat. “I should really get into the 'Reading Craze' before it dies out."

Faith’s brow scrunched. "You sure? I thought they made that spicy crap."

"So?"

"If you spend all your time spicin' up food, you ain’t writin’ home about the sex."

Buffy shook her head after a second. "How come I get the feeling that sense, no matter hard it tries, won't ever be able to save this conversation?"

"Here you go!" Fred raced back to them and handed the umbrella to Faith, who began to twirl it and hum, “I'm Singin' in the Rain.”

Fred handed money to Buffy. "I like the soft shells."

When the humming became lyrics that Faith somehow legitimately knew, Buffy groaned. Was it too late to go back to being mortal enemies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part One.


	7. Part Two: Chapter One

Duly impressed, Faith exhaled as they entered the lobby of Wolfram and Hart's former L.A. branch the following afternoon, which was now Angel's new headquarters. Her brows came together in appreciation when she felt the plush carpeting underneath her feet.

"Daaaaaaamn." She whistled and looked around, watching the endless stream of people rush by, until she spotted a semi-familiar figure.

"Nice to see you again, too," Lilah drawled, having heard Faith's comment as she crossed the short distance from the reception desk to where Angel's ragtag, “Band of Misfits: The Next Generation” was congregating. "While I am still flattered by your...interest in me, I just don't see it working out. And yes, I know 'persistence' is usually a virtue...for a fact actually, but—"

"Unless you wanna lose it again, Marie," Faith drew her finger across her neck with a smile, "your hole should be shutting, now. ‘Cause you know, I'm impulsive—in a, 'Oh god, that hurts, make the pain stop' kinda way."

"You do like them feisty, don't you?" Lilah responded, smiling as her gaze momentarily wandered between Buffy—who merely raised a contemptuous eyebrow—and Faith, before settling on Angel.

"I can handle the tour this time," the vampire finally piped up, brushing past Lilah and motioning for the others to follow him, "thanks."

He somehow managed to make the word sound both mocking and dismissive.

Smirk firmly in place, Lilah remained quiet as he and the gang continued into the office. She watched Buffy close the distance between herself and the other slayer, leaning so virtually no space existed between them. To whisper almost directly into Faith’s ear.

"Hmmm," Lilah purred, smile growing as the feisty brunette turned to respond, all the while maintaining their intimate position, "if I cared, I'd probably exploit that."

Besides, she'd be needed down below soon.

 

______

 

"As fascinating as the many shiny, and 'pushy' buttons on this cappuccino," Giles said, the last word coming out with considerable distaste, "maker may be, I think we're all a bit more curious to learn how you're able to walk through this building without experiencing a horrible, blistering, fiery death," he finished, noting with some satisfaction that Angel stopped running his hands over the machine almost immediately.

"Sure, that could be…informative too," Angel acknowledged, slowly inching himself away from the refreshment table as his keen detective skills observed his visitors exchanging amused looks.

His appreciation for such a finely crafted apparatus was perfectly reasonable. 

Straightening his jacket, he spoke again, striding into the center of the room.  "Whole building's fitted with necro-tempered glass—thirty percent more energy efficient. And that means," He glanced back at the man who’d criticized his tour-guiding skills, "no chance of a horrible, blistering, fiery death."

"Way to go with the imagery there, Taster's Choice," Faith quipped, winking at Angel before quickening her step to catch up. She slapped him on the back as the group continued moving through the lounge area and out into the second floor hallway.

"Taster's...?" Giles started, but then shook his head and quieted down, because he didn't want to know.

"Why didn't we ever think of that?" Buffy wondered, looking over at Willow.

"So much to mock, so little time," answered the redhead, smiling. "At least someone was here to pick up the slack."

"The power of positive thinking," Buffy smiled back, glad her best friend had accompanied them. "You amaze me, Will. Plus, it's nice to know we're keeping her around for a reason."

"Yeah, I'm so sure that's why," Willow mumbled under her breath, smirking as Buffy bounced on her feet in an attempt to keep the rest of their party in view amidst the throng scurrying about.

She was fairly certain there was another reason they were keeping Faith around. Last night made that clear. If her friend wasn't so dense, or decided to stop the selective denial... _'Sweet, sweet, simple Buffy,'_ she sighed to herself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Willow assured her brightly. "Look, they're over there."

 

______

 

"Go, go Gadget...laser crotch web...thing," Buffy sputtered rather lamely as she watched a series of lights shoot out from just below Fred's waist and spiral into a mesh-like design. "What _is_ that?"

A slightly alarmed and scared expression spread across her features. Meanwhile, in stark contrast, Fred was beaming and Willow was nodding excitedly. The two conversed at a ridiculous pace, caught in the thrall of “Geeker Joy.”

"A 'Laser-Crotch Web' thing," Faith stated easily as she leaned against the lab's back wall with Buffy. She feigned surprise. "You don't have?

"I'm telling ya, you're missing out. After you've gone 'Laser-Crotch,' everything else is ass soup."

"How did you ever become so extremely helpful?" Buffy's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"'Murder Rehab,'" instantly replied the official ex-con, eyes glued to her boot as she tapped it rhythmically on the tile floor.

"Really?"

"Nah—handy fallback, though." Faith grinned over at Buffy a second later. "You'd be surprised where that can fit in."

Buffy shook her head, trying not to smile. "Suddenly wishing...Oh. My.  God... _Whatthehellaretheydoing_?!?" she exclaimed, focused sharply back on their so-called, geeky friends.

Fred's back was to them, but she could make out Willow on her knees in front of the aforementioned Texan, leaning forward so that her face was almost in...in...There.

Faith raised her eyebrows slightly, her only reaction a lewd and sly grin. "Who knew science had perks?" She chuckled when Buffy rolled her eyes for the millionth time since yesterday. "You started it."

"You made it dirty...er." Buffy realized that she did kind of start it.

"I'm spic and span, baby," Faith protested, hands up. "Mean, she's just examining a crotch laser. You're the one that had to go rollin' in it."

"You totally rolled," Buffy accused, knowing Faith had her mind planted firmly in the gutter. "You can't not roll in it; you have a pass so you can roll year-round. You're so roll-happy that that's where you have to read your mail. Probably there’s dirty envelopes all over the place...

“I’m almost glad I never sent you Christmas cards."

Faith smirked and cocked her head as if to concede the point.

She scanned the lab quietly, still feeling those hazel eyes on her. She struggled to keep her expression neutral. Any second, Buffy was going to begin feeling bad for assuming she only thought about sex. Any...second...

...Now. "Wanna examine my crotch laser?"

Dead on, perfect timing—Buffy narrowed those eyes and started walking away.

"Ah, c’mon, I'm sorry." Touching Buffy’s shoulder lightly, Faith waited until she had her attention again. "That was wrong. We're supposed to be startin’ off fresh, and here I am being all selfish." She sounded sincere, like she was seeking penance. " _I'll_ examine _your_ crotch laser."

Buffy opened her mouth, her face a mask of indignant outrage, but after a moment’s thought, she closed it. "I can't even be offended by you anymore," she breathed out, looking confused. "I mean it—all my brain has to say is, 'Ehh.' That's it; I've become immune."

"Let's blow." Faith was unmoved by this revelation.

It wasn't possible. Her innuendos were like viruses. They'd grow, evolve, and offend yet again. She was sure of it.

"What?" Buffy squeaked, apparently not as immune as she believed.

"Busted," Faith grinned, but quickly decided to be a humble winner. "Let's get outta here, B; it's boring and nobody's into us. Dunno why, ‘cause we're stacked."

Angel and Giles were tentatively poking at a computer’s keyboard under the watchful eye of a technician. Fred and Willow talked softly, giggling often and pointing at strange objects located on the bench beside them. It was true; nobody noticed the slayers.

"What'd you have in mind?"

Faith wiggled her brow mischievously. "Stuff."

"Wacky stuff?" Buffy asked, straightening up and pushing off the wall.

"Crazy insane."

"I'm in."


	8. Part Two: Chapter Two

"We are _so_ bad," Buffy declared, carefully peeking around the corner to watch the chaos they just caused in the lunchroom. "Everybody's like, 'huh,' 'where,' 'I don't understand.' Poor evil suckers."

She watched co-workers yell, point, throw their hands up in the air, and basically just gesture wildly.

"They don’t have a choice now. They _hafta_ pour some milk in and _then_ get a whole different carton and pour some cream in! It's mayhem in there...pure mayhem."

Stealing the Half-and-Half was her idea, and proud she was. Faith gurgled a reply, which she took for disinterest, because she wasn't looking at her.

"Oh, you know it was great, and...what’re you doing?" Buffy’s sentences ran together as she finally did look, and realized her accomplice had been gulping from an ill-gotten container.

"Thirsty," answered Faith as if it was all the explanation necessary. "You?" She offered some to Buffy, who just stared. "More for me."

She chugged and then tossed the empty container on the floor. "We should steal all the toilet paper on the fourth floor."

"Why the fourth?"

"Because it's below the fifth?" Faith shrugged, staring into the distance. "’Sides, never liked fours all that much," she added, shifting her gaze to hold Buffy’s.

"Am I supposed to ask how come, or...?"

Buffy couldn't believe that everyone in high school thought she was the weird one. “High-functional schizophrenic” her ass—she was completely the normal...ish one.

"You wanna nab the TP or not?" Faith didn't address the question.

What was the point? Nobody understood.

"Can we turn all the hand dryers on?"

"Whatever hikes your skirt, B."

"Let's do it," agreed Buffy, leading the way to the elevators after Faith snatched herself another drink for the road.

 

______

 

"I already pushed it," Faith said peevishly as Buffy repeatedly jabbed the “Up” button.

"Drink your cream," Buffy retorted, jabbing again and smiling at somebody’s grouchiness.

"It's not gonna—"

Lowering the carton she’d begun to sip from during Buffy's comeback, Faith ate her words as the elevator doors opened. The petite annoyance looked far too pleased with herself.

"Shut it," was all Faith said as they stepped inside.

"You're so cranky all the time," Buffy noted, turning to the button panel.  "Maybe we should warm that up for you," She glanced at the Half-and Half, "just in time for your afternoon nap." The doors slid closed.

" _Siesta_ ," Faith corrected, grumbling. "And they were mandatory. Don’t get on me ‘cause I followed 'The Con Day-Planner.'"

She frowned as Buffy reached to choose a floor. "I'm pushing," she announced petulantly, slapping the smaller hand away.

Buffy looked at the back of her hand, shocked, and then at Faith, defiant. "No, _I'm_ pushing. Put that in your planner."

She knocked the competing hand down, staring in challenge, ready to try again.

"Somebody swiped it." Faith emphasized “swiped” somewhat bitterly. "So I'm jus' gonna hafta do my thing." She grasped Buffy's wrist. "Which means—button’s all mine."

"We'll go to the mall tomorrow, I'll buy you a 'Hello Kitty Fantasy Pack,' and you'll be footloose and fancy free," Buffy offered mid-struggle. "But you are _not_ pushing that button."

She'd managed to get her free hand around Faith's wrist too. They more or less ended up pushing and squeezing each other, no closer to their prize.

"Am," Faith insisted.

"Not," Buffy fired back, trying to lean her upper body towards the panel.

If she could get her nose by...

"AM."

"NOT."

"AM."

"NOT."

"You're short!" Faith exclaimed, smiling when Buffy loosened her grip, thrown by the cheap attack on her height. "Ha!"

Triumphant, she extended her finger in the direction of victory.

"Birthing hips!" Buffy shouted, sticking out her own finger to do battle. Faith shot her an, “I don't think so” look. "Yeah, you!"

Both of them randomly poked, mostly scratching each other, but occasionally making contact; of course, what buttons they pressed, neither could say.

"What's that?" Faith asked suddenly, calling an end to the duel.

"You were gonna bite me is what," Buffy stated matter-of-factly, having seen Faith's mouth moving for her finger.

"You wish."

Buffy bore into her for a minute, hard. Faith had definitely been primed for biting, which she did _not_ wish for. Eventually getting over it, she couldn’t miss what had captured Faith's attention. The large button that’d take them to “The White Room” appeared at the top of the panel. She remembered Angel's “cue-card” tour.

"Score." Faith smacked it with the side of her fist, and within moments, they were blinded by light.

 

______

 

Buffy extended her hand, feeling around for where the interior of the elevator should have been, only to feel and see nothing.

Glancing over at Faith—who was slowly nearing the center of the room, sipping still more Half and Half—she uttered with disappointment, "I thought it'd be whiter. Didn’t you think it’d be whiter?"

Also, she was more than a little disquieted to hear that her voice didn't reverberate like it normally would've in an empty, seemingly enclosed space.

"This is wicked creepy," Faith spoke a moment later, not exactly answering.

But she did spin around to face her companion, before stepping up closer.

"I know," Buffy exhaled, actually relieved to feel Faith’s presence at her side. "It's like we're alone...completely alone." 

Faith smirked a bit. "Well, we kinda...are."

"Thank you, 'Miss Takes Things Too Literally,'" said Buffy, showing off her “Not Amused” face. "I happened to be speaking...not-literally."

"Clears it up," Faith snickered, which drew an unimpressed look her way.

She sighed, hating to see that; made her sad for some reason.

"Not-literally alone, literally alone...what's it matter? We're still hot chicks with super powers."

Buffy recalled the last time she heard these words, and she now viewed her fellow slayer somewhat affectionately. "Takes the edge off."

"Just comforting."

"Uh huh." Buffy allowed them to lapse into silence briefly, so they could bask in their own wit and each other's company. "We should get back."

She shook her head at the room in general, letting it know that it didn't meet her expectations.

"There you go again," accused Faith, though she did turn her head a bit to search for an exit. "Why you always be dissin' Whitey?"

"Coming from the Ghetto Superstar, that hurts...exactly not at all." Buffy backtracked to their entry point to feel around for an invisible something that might help.

"Don't be playa hatin'." Faith tried not to laugh at Buffy caressing thin air.

"I’d never even. I, uh, only hate on the game...dawg. Every game. All games. Since I don’t know which one’s the bad one."

Buffy's hand jerked back suddenly when it found that invisible something. The air shimmered, revealing open, elevator doors.

Faith calmly returned to the elevator as if she’d expected it to show up that very moment. Yet she did pat Buffy on the back as if to say, “Well done.”

"Difference between me and you? I can talk 'Street.' But you, you go 'B-Rad' on everyone's ass."

When the doors closed again behind Buffy, they began to move. Had they even pushed any more buttons? Nope. Neither wanted to reopen that worm can.

"Are you saying I'm not fly?" she asked, quirking an amused eyebrow.

"To me, you're flying high," Faith told her with sincerity, casually draping an arm around short shoulders and squeezing Buffy’s body playfully. "And that’s saying somethin', considering you're a major, HelL-A brat," she added, simply smiling at another eye roll. "We can still hang, though. My hand to...whatever the hell's up, I'll get you help."

DING. She clicked finger guns at Buffy as she backed out of the open doors.

"I'm...holy shit!"

 

______

 

Faith whirled around to see ten security guards surrounding the elevator, all of whom had non-finger-guns and other, assorted weaponry ready and/or aimed.

She dropped to the ground, her right hand coming to rest on the back of her head. Her left shamelessly diverted all attention to a bewildered blonde. "She did it."

Buffy had raised her hands but remained upright, incredulous and gob-smacked. Faith was totally punking her out.

"She's got a record!" Diverted right back. "Look at her—did you see how she hit the deck? She's obviously done hard time, tasted steel," she rambled, imploring the guards to aim in a direction not at her.

"Tasted steel?"

Faith started to flip around so that she could face her accuser, but resumed her “Don't shoot me” position when one of the guards waved his weapon in a manner that did not inspire confidence.

"We live, you're hanging by yourself," she muttered, knowing Buffy would hear.

The girl was beyond help.

"I'm not the one about to get a cavity search," Buffy sing-songed.

Though it seemed like they were at odds, both were ready to come to the other's aid, should they have to.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Sweet Cheeks," injected a female guard, reaching for a pair of handcuffs.

"But...I was a cheerleader," Buffy choked out as two guards slowly approached her, and she gulped as a chuckling Faith was hauled unceremoniously to her feet. "What're you laughing at?"

"You're a clencher, can tell."

It was all Faith needed to say for Buffy to whip her head around and gape at the guards that were inching ever so nearer. "They wouldn't."

"Oh, they would," came a familiar voice from the side, and both girls saw Angel calmly strolling up to them and their new buddies. "Come here."

Stopping, he crooked two fingers, beckoning them. Then he nodded at the guards to let them go. Once the troublemakers stood before him, he placed his hands on each of their shoulders, shook his head, and admonished in a stern, fatherly voice—

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to reform an evil law firm? Believe it or not, the answer’s 'Very.' There's constantly problems that’re my job to fix. And no one leaves me alone until I have. It’s not like I ‘ve got anything better to do with eternity..."

"That's good—you should challenge yourself once in a while," Buffy encouraged.

"If it isn't a bitch, it isn't worth doin'." Faith had modified it, but she was sure that she'd originally adopted the saying from someplace.

Proverbs were cool.

Angel bit the inside of his cheek in frustration, then plowed ahead like they hadn't interrupted. "Wanna know my biggest problem right now? Turns out the demon running the mailroom can't stand the sound of human laughter, which I wish _certain people_ would've mentioned when I became boss."

Taking a beat to stop himself from ranting, he also let it dawn on the girls.

"Thanks to you two, everyone in the building knows not to do what you've been doing for the last hour—guess what I'm talking about."

His posture said, “We both know you don't need to.”

"That's right, so," he drew the word out, the slightest hint of a very rare, pleading whine lacing his words and betraying his authoritative exterior, "could ya knock it off?"

Buffy and Faith nodded vigorously. "Yeah."

He squeezed their shoulders with a satisfied smile, and waved the guards off. "Hurry up, the others are waiting."

"Hey, Hair Gel," Faith called out as they began to trail him down the hallway, "you got any more Half-and-Half around here? Left mine in the White Room."

Angel looked over at her curiously.

"She was thirsty," Buffy supplied, exchanging a look with the vampire before bumping her shoulders against Faith's.

"You're so judgmental." Faith's tone was equally light. "'Don't kill people,' 'Don't sleep with my boyfriends,' 'Don't drink Half-and-Half,' 'Put down my underwear.' Jesus...lighten up."


	9. Part Two: Chapter Three

Faith paused in the doorway. She watched Buffy, Willow and Giles while they walked into the room where Cordelia lay. Then she noticed Angel step off to the side and rest his shoulder against the wall. Stepping back herself, she spoke low.

"You coming?"

"No," he answered.

Despite the casual stance, she could tell he was feeling restless, stressed. She'd never spent much time around Angel and Cordelia together. Why?

Because the first time she'd come to L.A., Faith was too busy trying to kill him, and knocking her unconscious. However, during her brief stint with “Team Angel” a few weeks ago, she'd gotten the impression that they’d become tight over the years.  It had to be killing him to see her like this. Probably brought up weepy emotions and shit.

She didn't blame him—if things were reversed, she wouldn't have gone in there with a bunch of other people around, either.

Turning to the doorway once more, Faith wanted to enter, but froze a mere couple of paces in. The room’s atmosphere surrounded her like a damp mist. Standing around the side of Cordelia's bed looking down at her, the others were unnervingly quiet and still. Too quiet. It made the sound of her own heart beating seem loud and harsh.

 

______

 

"I just saw her," Willow commented softly, reaching out as if she were going to touch Cordelia's hand, but stopping before actual contact. "We, caught up, you know. Laughed. Brainstormed a little. She was almost...glowing."

It hadn't really been Cordy she was talking to when she'd come to return Angel's soul, but in a way it didn't matter, because at the time, it had been. Her and Cordelia...old friends catching up. And that's what she retained, the warmth of that moment, the pleasantness, the comfort of someone so familiar. It’d been real for her, and that's what hurt so much.

"I couldn't tell; I should have..." She closed her eyes. They'd known each other since kindergarten, why didn't she see? "I might've been able to..."

Overwhelmed by it all, she trailed off once again. 

It was Cordelia. A person who wasn't silent, who wasn't supposed to be a shell lying on a bed. It was Cordelia.

"This should never have happened," Buffy whispered, studying the ex-cheerleader's smooth, lifeless features.

Then she jerked her head to the side slightly, jaw tensing. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She tried to blink them away as fast as she could.

"She should've been...she would've been...safe. Never like..." Her thoughts sunk below the surface, and she lost the words.

Sucking in a breath, she looked back at the comatose woman, going rigid.

Closing off.

"Buffy—" Willow started to protest, placing her hand on her best friend's shoulder.

"Don't, Will." Buffy drew away from that supportive gesture.

It felt like lead weights had been attached to every limb of her body, when she'd just gotten rid of them—funny, in a sad kind of way. Yesterday the world had near-literally been those weights, but a thwarted apocalypse, a clean shower and a good night's sleep, helped it seem as though there'd only been air on her back.

What caused them to come crashing down again?

Walking in and seeing Cordelia lifeless. Because she wasn't expecting it, the ache was even worse than before. Even more painful.

Death and destruction. Those were her gifts which she'd given to Cordelia, wrapped in pretty paper with a bow, on the very day they'd met. She'd cursed her, bringing nothing but misery and setting her on the path to this soft, comfy deathbed.

 

______

 

At the doorway, Faith's shoulders suddenly jerked in response to a light pressure on her chest; she hadn't even realized she was moving. Looking sharply to her side, she saw Willow standing just in front of her, discouraging any further movement into the room. Movement towards Buffy.

The witch just shook her head at the glare, her eyes staying on Faith even as the reformed slayer lifted a hand up to remove hers.

Buffy was in a place where she wouldn't be receptive to anyone, Willow knew that. Time was needed to process, and they needed to leave and give it to her. Willow watched Faith start forward then, as if she were going in anyway, past her. But she didn’t.

Faith breathed deeply, willing herself not to go another inch. Focusing her attention on Buffy—and Giles, who was now beside his surrogate daughter, _his_ hand permitted to rest on her shoulder—Faith bit her lip, needing to think. The inner-urge to simply walk in there and do something...anything...was powerful.

Her partner was hurting. She could feel it battering against her senses, rolling off in waves. And if there was one thing she'd learned about herself, it was that she couldn't stand to see Buffy in this state. She wanted to make it end, but there was nothing she could do.

This wasn't something she could save her from. Nor could she force Buffy to redirect her frustrations, like she'd done in the alleyway outside the Bronze.

Trying for a calming inhale, Faith viewed Giles with envy—he was Buffy's sentinel, her silent guardian. She wished she could be that, but “stillness” wasn't her nature. She might be able to manage it a few minutes...until the desire to act, to make things better, to make Buffy better, overtook her. That'd make the situation worse.

Exhaling her impotent anger, Faith nodded at Willow and left the doorway.

 

______

 

The instant Willow closed the door behind them, Faith spun on her heel, punched the nearest wall savagely, and then ran an agitated hand through her hair.

"I fucking hate..." She cut herself off in order to gain some control. "Why’s she do this to herself?"

Tossing her body against the wall, she folded her arms across her chest.

"She's always done this," sighed Willow, keeping her distance. She didn't really like to be in close proximity when certain slayers were all riled. "It's a slayer thing."

"No," Faith argued more forcefully than intended, looking at Willow, "it's a Buffy thing." 

Angel took a few steps toward the slayer as she quieted down, reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder, drawing her eyes to him. She was coiled like a bow.

"It's not," Faith said softly, more assuring herself as she moved out from underneath her surrogate big brother's hand, somewhat eased by the contact. "Why the hell’s she think every fucking thing is her fault?"

"It's how she is," Angel responded almost in a whisper, his view momentarily drifting over to the closed door. "It's who she is."

"Yeah, got that. Sorta hard to miss," Faith sighed, barely sparing him a glance. "A goddamn drama queen."

Just because she got it didn't mean she had to support her partner’s self-destructive qualities.

"The sash and tiara—" he started.

"—probably got lost in the mail," Willow finished lightly, and both were glad to see Faith’s stance relax and her shoulders loosen.

The three of them lapsed into silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. For a little too long. More to break the quiet than anything else, which had become uncomfortable, Willow spoke up.

"She looked good."  

"She was in the bathroom for like a friggin' hour this morning—she should," grumbled Faith, rolling her eyes. "Came out looking like shit, I'd be pissed."

"I was talking about Cordelia," Willow replied slowly, eyeing Faith as if the girl had gone insane...again.

"Right." Quick reply, even quicker look away. "That's who I was talking about, too."

Willow smirked and checked to see Angel’s similarly dubious expression, the two of them enjoying a moment at Faith's expense. Said person abruptly started down the hall.

"Where're you going?"

"Get a sticky bun," Faith responded in a belabored tone, turning around. "Anyone else want?" she asked somewhat sarcastically, just wanting to take a walk.

Awkward silences weren't her thing, and besides, she hated feeling powerless.

"That'd be nice," Willow told her sweetly. "If there's any pecan ones...yum. You could have them delivered right to the hallway, care of: Me."

Faith stared at her until she couldn't stop her own smirk from appearing. "Guess you want a plate too, huh, Princess?"

Willow gave a shrug. "I'm high maintenance that way."

"No laughing!" Angel called after Faith, who’d resumed her trek away from them.

 

______

 

"You know, occasionally? You're very strange," observed Willow. "’Cause I don't think the chances of 'Laughter Gales' are super high right now."

"With those two..." There was skepticism in Angel's reply as he trailed off, watching Faith's figure disappear around the corner. "Do you get what's funny about cavity searches?"

"Are you okay?" she asked while he was still looking off in the distance.

His mood could change that fast. 

When he met her eyes, there was desperation written all over. "Could you...I mean, would you want to...maybe see what you can do?"

He knew she was powerful, more powerful than anyone at Wolfram and Hart, and he needed her to try. But she looked at him with puzzlement.

"For Cordelia. Please."

Her heart broke when she heard the sadness there. "Could, would, and will...silly question. Of course I want to," she informed him. "Everybody wants her back, Angel, and I'm gonna stay ‘til she really is. She'll wake up, promise."

A little, encouraging smile.

"I'll cast my darndest, but it won't be speedy—might take a while."

"Need a new head of our 'Mystical Division'...you want it, job's yours. There's good dental," he offered. "The last one was a Naa'dek sorceress—lot of flash, not a lot of talent. And she also thought vampires were polluting demon kind...I didn't like having poisonous bile spit at me."

He winced at the memory. "Her résumé was a flat out lie. I try to be fair, but somebody always has to pull something. Ticks me off."

She waited a minute to let him cool down, and then responded, "I'll think about it."

Making life-decisions a day out of Sunnydale wasn't wise. It was obvious, however, that his “hurry” attitude came from caring deeply about Cordelia, and she had a good idea how deep. The stress of keeping this entire building functioning was a factor as well.

Angel focused on the small window in the door that allowed him to see Buffy and Giles standing together by Cordelia. Part of him wanted to go in there and comfort her, just as Faith wanted to. And that made him remember the havoc the slayers caused.

"I knew if they ever got along they'd be...tough to deal with. But I never expected them to be so..."

"Rambunctious?" Willow suggested with a grin, able to follow his thought-train easily. Their antics had been on her mind all afternoon. "Nutty and happy?"

"Young."

"They are young, though. Young, youthful people. It's just kinda delayed; for all of us," she explained to him. "I think making up for lost time is a good thing—we should. Well, everybody except you and Giles. ‘Cause you’re so ol...um, mature and-and wise and all."

He tried to hide the sting—had he or had he not bought himself a video game console?

"But you've picked up on it too, right?” she asked. “Between Buffy and—"

Looking at Willow, he attempted to brush the topic aside by acting nonchalant. "It's their lives."

"Pretty sure I didn't ask that." Her voice was soft but firm.

Angel couldn't help the small smile of admiration that had come to his face. She'd grown up so much from that girl who'd been scared to have a boy in her room after dark—now she was all forceful and woman-y. 

"I noticed. And if they want to, I'll be glad for them," he finally answered, hunching his shoulders a bit before shrugging.

"But?" Willow had caught that slight hesitation.

He skirted that question, instead choosing to further his previous words. "I want them to be happy; I don't care how, just that they are."

"Great, because they both..." She tapered off, leaving the already known, unsaid.

The witch and the vampire lapsed into comfortable silence once more.

 

______

 

Faith had been watching the door again for a few seconds, when it thankfully opened. She headed instinctively to it the second it did.

Willow had gone off in search of Fred once she got her pecan bun—complete with plate and napkin—while Angel stood near the end of the hall with an employee. So the only one stopping her from screwing this up was her, and her alone. 

Giles exited first, his eyes catching her nervous ones before walking to Angel, who immediately dismissed the guy from the Accounting department. Buffy started to follow her watcher out a few seconds later, but stopped in the doorway. Torturing herself, she looked back at the unresponsive Cordelia.

"Don't," Faith said softly, closing the distance between them so that they stood side-by-side, giving the appearance that they were blocking off the rest of the world.

The sound of Faith's voice so close, made Buffy refocus. And she was surprised by the fact that she wasn't the least bit surprised to find Faith there. Taking a step back, a move her partner mirrored, she shut the door and remained still, staring at it.

Knowing she was being watched, she then faced Faith fully, removed the last centimeters of distance, and wrapped one arm around her neck and the other about her waist, enveloping her into a tight hug.

Faith returned it with gusto, despite her own surprise. She hadn't expected the contact, but she certainly wasn't going to do anything to end it. It was fantastic, and long overdue. She couldn't remember ever being hugged for no apparent reason, and she definitely couldn't remember it coming from Buffy.

But she'd remember this, because it made her feel proud. The only thing she wanted was to help, and this was helping. She did it.

A whispered, "Thanks," came from Buffy.

Pulling back some, her head dipped with a touch of embarrassment, though she didn't completely break contact with Faith's body.

"For...?" Faith was genuinely curious, watching Buffy’s hand trail down her arm until their fingers intertwined lightly.

"You know."

Fingers quietly separated, and hands dropped away.

"You really wanted to come in...I could feel it, how worried you were," Buffy told her after a little bit, voice even lower than before. "But I needed some...well, you know."

Smiling a smidge, she wondered if Faith's eyes had actually gotten lighter as she spoke, or if it was just her own mood that had improved.

"Yeah," Faith nodded, glad to see the smile.

"Still, you could've stayed," Buffy amended. "Wouldn't have minded."

"I would've." Faith looked down. "I just...don't trust myself yet."

To that, Buffy confidently responded, "I did; I do."

Faith still worried about how in control of herself she truly was. About whether she could force herself not to act when every muscle, every thought, demanded activity. Buffy had had that same worry, but the more time they spent together, the more it faded.

They'd already gotten themselves into this comfortable place, and it had never taken her long to read her partner. Faith would come around eventually, or else she'd have to “assist” her.

Faith smiled, her expression both happy and bashful as she looked back up. "Always sayin' I've got your back—next time I will."

Buffy grinned at that and snaked her arm around Faith's waist. "Let's get outta here—Jerry’ll be on soon."

She led them to where Giles and Angel were most likely discussing her idea to get governmental assistance. She had a call to make, which Giles reminded her of before leaving Cordelia's room.

"You'd watch? For me?" Faith asked, moved.

"I'm a big softy. Besides, there's always helpful combat tips," Buffy shrugged. "And I've gotta call Riley later, don't let me forget, okay? It's this gigantically paranoid, secretive pain in the ass, so it'll take forever to get through."

Narrowing brown eyes shot her way.

"What d'you wanna call FarmDic...uh, him for?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part Two


	10. Part Three: Chapter One

Buffy sighed, eyes moving from the charcoal ceiling downwards until they landed on Faith, who was standing on the opposite side of the basement. Shifting her weight so she was leaning more comfortably against the cool surface of the wall, she just watched her partner a moment.

Faith stretched her body to the side, arm reaching over her head before she rotated her torso slightly. Then placing her hands on the small of her back, she thrust her chest forward, releasing a long, almost guttural sigh as she worked out...whatever it was she was working out. 

Buffy snorted at the display, and shifted her gaze to where an extremely bored-looking Kennedy and Vi were sitting on the basement steps.

_'They look like I feel.'_

She watched her best friend's girlfriend tilt her head upwards at the ceiling, mouth open, before craning her head to the side and rolling it around simply because there was nothing better to do. It was mid-June, and every one of the slayers, old and new, had more free time than anyone should, while the A.I. team went about business as usual.

Giles had been in touch with governmental types, thanks to Riley. They were brainstorming how to get an organization off the ground, and a covert, but out-in-the-open way to attract the attentions of the undiscovered slayers.

Willow spent most of her time with Cordelia, using the resources of Wolfram and Hart to discover a mystical, “Rise and Shine” spell.

Dawn shopped daily with Vi, Kennedy, and a less clueless Chao-Ahn—her sister was developing impressive consumer expertise.

Xander had kind of bonded with Lorne, and the two of them had undertaken a remodeling project of the entire hotel.

It was Lorne's hope, with their offices having changed location, that he could turn the place into an actual, economically beneficial, five-star hotel. So they'd hired a mix of human and surprisingly amicable demon workers. Things were going well, but it would still be a while before his dream was realized.

While everyone had their own time occupiers, Buffy and Faith were more or less inseparable, traveling around the city wreaking hijinks, eating, going to movies, eating some more...whatever. And it was fun, very fun—you couldn't tell that they were ever anything other than good friends. This was how it always should've been.

But they did have to deal with boredom and the desire to slay. As much as their bodies wanted to, they didn't, using the excuse that there was no need, because Angel had the evil under firm control (no pun intended). Slaying would pop the nice bubble of normality they were in. To work off the itch, the two sparred daily, like now.

Shaking her head, Buffy thought enough was enough.

 

______

 

"You gonna stretch all day lil' doggie, or are you gonna bite?" she asked finally, quirking a lazy but challenging brow in her opponent's direction, smirking for good measure as deep, brown eyes found hers. 

Faith slowly lowered the arm she'd been stretching so that it hung easily at her side. Not breaking eye contact at all, a slow, deliberate, carnivorous smile eventually crept across her face.

"Just remember, this time you asked," she drawled, bouncing on her feet a little.

Then she moved to the basement’s center and chewed her lip expectantly. Buffy shoved off the wall she'd been leaning against so carefree, to approach her.

"When I've got you on your back begging me for mercy, _you_ can remember for both of us," Buffy smoothly replied, assuming a relaxed, “ready” position as they began to circle each other.

"Whoa. Haven't heard talk like that since my cellmate got transferred. Coming from you, though...almost sounds like fun." Faith saw hazel eyes narrow a bit at her comment. "Make that a promise and we might just have us a party—one for the books. I'm feelin' 'merry' already."

"Why, Faith," An arm lashed out, which was swiftly deflected, and Buffy had to jump over a quick, retaliatory leg sweep, "I thought you liked it on top."

"Ain’t the only one," Faith remarked with a grin, dancing backwards out of the reach of Buffy's foot. "You know," she continued almost contemplatively as her fist shot out, missing the other slayer's jaw because it was ducked under, "we ever want to, like if we're bummin' around, hours to kill...the two of us could _totally_ give 'rock 'em, sock 'em' a whole new meaning. Can almost picture it."

That earned her a gaping, warning stare, and cheeks had clearly reddened.

"Shit...you should see your face."

"'Rock 'em, sock 'em'? Your euphemisms have gotten very abstract." Buffy was working hard to not let herself get completely distracted.

Distraction wasn't a luxury she could afford. If she lost her concentration for even a second, she would be the one ending up on the bottom. On her back.

"Are you sure you didn't _like_ prison?"

"Maybe I would've, if I'd a met someone packed full of charm as you," countered Faith, smiling.

A smile that was quickly wiped away as she went into a back flip, only to come up having to defend a series of well aimed, well timed blows. The elicited a happy holler from her, which in words would’ve sounded something like, “Fuck yeah!”

"I missed this. Especially the 'Unh.'"

She grinned like mad at the woman facing her. The adrenaline pumping through her body was only increasing. It made her even more excited when Buffy met her eyes and grinned as well.

"That was better. Much less abstract."

 

______

 

Kennedy, elbows resting on her knees, had been leaning forward to get a better view of the originals in action. But now she turned to look at Vi with widening eyes.

"Uh?" She raised her brow questioningly at the shorthaired redhead.

"I think it was more like, 'Unh.'" Vi contorted her features and made a grunting face.

That hadn't really been what Kennedy was getting at.

She was actually trying to ask, “What the hell was that about,” but didn’t clarify. With Buffy and Faith talking and trying to beat each other again, she had more pressing matters with which to occupy her time.

 

______

 

"Rocked?" Buffy wondered as Faith rubbed her stomach lightly where a certain foot had just connected, yet their eyes never wavered from one another.

"More like socked," Faith said before unleashing a complicated flurry of kicks and punches. She hopped back into her ready position after her last kick connected to her no-longer-so-cocky sparring partner’s midsection. "Well check that out...two of a kind."

"Funny," Buffy said deadpan.

"Hey, c'mon, I gotta give credit where it's due, and we all get that you're the funny one here." Faith acted as if she were surrendering to a hard truth, giving a gracious wave as proof. "Anybody gets a look at your face, and—"

Her arms lifted to block a barrage of punches preventing her from finishing. She would've been broken up about the interruption of her jibe, but it worked even better with Buffy doing her own, mental “Fill in the Blank.”

"Man, nice 'Fists of Fury,' B," she praised once the attack stopped and they squared off again. "Somethin' I said?"

"Isn't it always?" Buffy arched an eyebrow, but kept a small smile.

"Nah, sometimes it's something I do," Faith retorted, seizing the opportunity presented. "But it's better when it's both."

She winked at her partner, who quickly reddened again.

"Got gifts, gotta share ‘em. Wherever, whenever."

"Subtle, yet suggestive. Gee, I guess you have changed."

"I can also spell 'Mississippi' without slippin’." Faith blew on her nails and buffed them on her tank top. "You impressed? Warmed up, maybe?"

In reply, she was jumped on and temporarily slammed to the ground. After she rolled the extra body weight off, they both hopped back onto their feet.

"Guess that answers that question. But really, Buffy...we have guests. Save it for the veranda." Her last statement drew three, perplexed expressions, only one of which she paid attention to. "Who doesn't love a good view?"

"Believe me, you wouldn't get to enjoy it," Buffy informed her, not even sparing a glance at Kennedy and Vi, knowing that was what she’d be expected to do. "Well, not the 'garden' view anyway."

She smirked a bit at her own suggestiveness, rather proud of herself.

"Gardens are a bee-itch. Fun to look at, pain in the grass to mow." Faith upped the level of innuendo, ignoring the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. "Lookin’ a little rosy," She saw the nearly imperceptible change in Buffy's expression at her words, "you feeling okay? Let's take you to bed, go nip this thing in the bud...or is it, 'take the bud and go nippin' in the bed?'"

"A floral motif, that's new...and kind of poetic. I'm so yay that you've grown as a flirter." Buffy didn't rise to the dangling bait, though the teasing did hit its mark, for the whole basement to witness.

 

______

 

Kennedy managed to rip her eyes away when she felt a warm body settle down beside her. Smiling over at the latest spectator, she rested her head on Willow’s shoulder. Both of them then resumed watching the ongoing battle, while Willow frowned just a little.

 

______

 

"I got some material about sweet-smelling dew drippin' from cherry blossoms..." Faith said with a leer.

"Think I'd rather listen to one of your limericks." Buffy tipped her head to the side thoughtfully. "If you can even call them that." Taking her shot, she regained control. "And I used to think the Hellmouth was scary."

She smiled sweetly at the responding glower.

"You gonna lay a hellacious ass-whoopin’ on me, too?" Faith asked, expertly dodging the punches Buffy threw at her.

"Hellaciousness would clash with our new, surprisingly satisfying 'friendliness' thing. So I'll settle for a smackdown. You know, if that's okay with you and your ass."

"You wanna smack my ass?" Faith deliberately misconstrued that last sentence. "Hold on, I'm not usually into that...but like you said, we have been getting friendly..."

"You need to learn when to shut up," Buffy interjected, promptly cutting her off, "anybody ever tell you that?"

"Ya mean before now?"

The glare only gave Faith steam—she sighed appreciatively.

"So tiny, yet so dominant." She made an amused little face, motioning like she was pinching Buffy's cheeks. "You're so cute."

"I'm. Not," The next word practically exploded from Buffy's mouth, " _Tiny_!"

With that, she didn't let up even for an instant. Faith was caught off guard by her attack and enraged resolve, and put more on the defensive than she normally liked.

_'Oh fuck.'_

 Faith felt herself freefalling...until her back landed with a thud, and a warm body settled over her on the floor.

"Told you I'd get you on your back," Buffy triumphantly declared, placing her hands on the loser’s shoulders to prevent movement—not that there was much struggle.

"Lucky," Faith muttered, looking at the steel cage off to the side.

"What was that? Couldn't hear.” Buffy dug her knees into Faith's side just enough to command attention, but not to hurt.

"What're you, deaf? You got _lucky_." Faith defiantly matched Buffy’s intense stare.

"Really? ‘Cause those of us that live in reality like to call it—"

Faith bucked her hips gently at first, then with more force when she realized that Buffy was just moving with the waves. 

She settled as it became clear there'd be no dislodging her this way, giving Buffy a mixed look of pride and astonishment. Spike hadn't been lying about her getting “down and dirty.” You had to have some practice to be able to ride out this storm.

Buffy wasn't sure what to make of that look, or the fact that Faith had ceased fighting as well as speaking, and was completely still. She was usually like a giant ball of energy, always moving, always talking.

Even in quiet moments, back in the beginning when they'd had a few, Faith was rubbing her hands together, or cracking her knuckles, or making fists—like she couldn't stand just being. Yet she was lying there, relaxed and quiet.

 

______

 

The pair riveted Kennedy even during the staring contest. The girl wasn’t sure what to make of what she'd just seen, let alone the climax. Having lifted her head from Willow's shoulder some moments before, she looked at her, curious.

"Are they...?" She trailed off, unable to explain the way Buffy and Faith interacted with each other as anything other than sexual tension.

Willow's slow, sly smile said so much. Kennedy smirked as she tuned back into the show one final time, then stood up and offered her hand to her witch. Willow’s smile, coupled with the “rock 'em, sock 'em” festivities, made her want to get on her back in a way that absolutely did not involve sparring.

Behind that smile, Willow wondered if she’d feel different this time.

And up at the top of the stairs, Dawn quickly vanished so the couple wouldn't see that she’d been watching them.

 

_______

 

"Stop that," Buffy protested, oblivious to any exiting girlfriends.

"Stop what?" Faith was genuinely puzzled, although she tried to have it sound like all part of her master plan...whatever that may have been.

"Looking at me."

Buffy rose to a standing position, freeing the body under her. But instead of getting up, Faith merely rolled onto her side and propped her head up with her hand, wearing a small, pleased smile.

"I can't believe I was thinking about helping you up," Buffy spoke exasperatedly, catching Vi retreating out of the corner of her eye.

"How, 'Friendly, Neighborhood... _former_ one-chick-in-all-the-world,' of you," Faith smirked, sitting up. "I accept."

She held out her hand to her partner.

"I said I was _thinking_ about it.” Buffy proceeded to view the appendage thoughtfully.

"Can't just leave me hangin', yo." Faith stared up at what she hoped would be her savior, eyes practically whining, “After all we've been through together?” all shimmery wide.

 _'That's just not right,'_ Buffy decided, and then helped her up.

The “Urban Girl to the Core” and the “Puppy Dog Expression” were two phrases she never expected to ever use in conjunction.

"Much obliged, B," said Faith softly, her face mere inches from another, now.

"My pleasure," Buffy’s voice was equally soft.

She took a step back, putting some space between them.

"Yeah." Faith nodded in total agreement. "Most people would needta at least offer to feed me before getting the kind of free action you just did."

"In that case, I feel..." Buffy headed for their way out, craning her neck to keep sight of a following Faith.

"Pretty damn special?" Faith supplied as she grabbed the railing and hopped onto the first step. "You wanna know—?"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was gonna—"

"No."

"Not even if—?"

"Nope."

"It could be—"

"Don't think so."

"That's kinda—"

"I'm not gonna lose any sleep over it."

"Your loss..." Faith shrugged.

"...Is your gain."

They entered the Hyperion’s lobby.

"How's it my gain if I already knew what I was gonna say?" Faith asked in a “Got ya!” tone.

"Not the point," Buffy smugly revealed as they crossed the tile floor to the stairway on the left.

"Yeah, what is?"

Stopping in the middle of the staircase, Buffy spun around so that she was looking down at Faith. "That you forget now."

Faith snorted as if she’d never heard anything so ridiculous. "No, I...” Beat. “Motherf...”

Buffy smiled and turned back, wistful. "It's good to be me."

 She continued scaling the steps, smiling to herself as she heard the playfully muttered, “Devil woman.”

"Would a 'devil woman' treat you to your very own bucket of ribs?"

Not missing a beat, Faith said, "Yes."

"Seriously?" 

"There was the one time."

"I don't wanna know." Buffy hurried her ascent.

"I think ya do. You wanna hear all about how—" 

Hands were clamped over ears.

"I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't _hear_ you..." Buffy repeated again and again as she marched down the hall, refusing to look back. 

Faith smiled—she was back on top.


	11. Part Three: Chapter Two

It was early evening when the slayers entered their room at the hotel, ending a day-long hunt for the classic, 8-Bit NES and assorted cartridges/accessories. Buffy was lugging a basketful. She dropped them on her bed as Faith just stood there, leisurely eating reheated ribs she'd paid for.

"You at least need to taste 'em; they're even better nuked. No joke." Faith’s audience of one wasn't swayed, and just smirked. "Buffy, these ribs are the _bomb_...don’t deny yourself."

"This is driving me nuts—there, I said it." Buffy rubbed her temples.

Faith was now spouting slang so well past overused, all races cringed upon hearing it. Had she really fallen that far down the list?

"Faith, I'm your friend, and seriously? You should listen to yourself. It's almost 'My bad,' bad," continued Buffy somberly.

This gave her roommate pause, but denial came on strong. "It's hung in a few rounds; what’s wrong with that?" she shrugged, defensive. "Just means it's hard to knock out. Put down the shovel—it ain’t goin’ in the ground yet."

Buffy relented slightly. "Fine, I _could’ve_ been semi-exaggerating, but the second it becomes a huge issue and I say, 'Told you so,' remember that I both broached and warned. Now drop the beef and help me plug this in."

She picked up the Nintendo, looking confused by it.

"Such a porn line, B." Faith’s eyes twinkled. She set her plate down on her own bed.

"You’d know," Buffy joked with a similar, accompanying twinkle.

"Talk about something that’s hung around,” Faith gestured to the system. “If people back in the day could get it hooked up...” She met a look that asked just what exactly she was implying. "Just sayin’, simpler time. And we got this.”

Wiping her hands with the napkins Buffy wisely threw in the basket before they’d headed up here, Faith then lobbed them basketball-style into the trashcan by the door. She didn’t want to get barbeque sauce all over the TV they’d borrowed from Lorne’s room.

She turned it to reach the back, snickering. "Hell, they had Beta."

"Like you have any idea what that is," Buffy challenged.

"Dude with the contacts on Star Trek."

Buffy stared blankly at the smug expression. "I'm not even...nope. Not bothering."

"What? Only way I'll learn." Faith crossed her arms over her chest expectantly. "Never was good with the whole, 'patience' thing. Let’s go."

Buffy was at a loss, and there was no way to climb out of this pitfall. "It was, um...that toy. It was like a glow-in-the-dark puzzle, so they gave you these little lights in the box, but some were always missing."

"Oh, you're a friggin' _genius_. That was a Lite-Brite!" Faith shook her head disappointedly, holding in a chuckle. "Sure talk big for a," She coughed into her hand, "college dropout."

Carefully placing the elderly console atop the TV, Buffy lunged, sending them both hard onto her bed and knocking the basket to the floor, spilling its contents. She looked down at her bold, smart-ass partner and said—

"I’m _this_ close to leaning toward disliking you. Temporarily. For a week."

"Wouldn't last that long."

"Me?"

Buffy was ready to argue the point, more for argument's sake than anything else, but then she paid attention to the eyes that gave her a brutally honest answer. With a barely noticeable smile, she rolled off Faith so they lay side-by-side on their backs.

 

______

 

Their thoughts had been moving in a certain direction lately, and it felt like forever until she spoke again, choosing to sidestep them for another direction altogether.

"Why'd we get all this stuff?"

"I had to see if I could still pull off the granddaddy of all codes," Faith reminded her, speaking of the famous Contra cheat, "and you said you could find the second whistle in Mario 3."

"I can," Buffy repeated in her defense. "But...why'd we get _all_ this stuff?"

"’Cause we like to go full-tilt?"

Buffy mused on this. "Wonder if that's a good. I...it'd be easy to fall back into the slaying, but going full-tilt again? Isn't high up there."

"Girls are willin' to handle the slack; it's okay to relax the hours. You put in the years, and it earned you options. Be stupid not to use ‘em."

Faith wasn’t shy with that opinion.

Buffy sighed. "I've just been thinking about how everybody else has their own thing, and I'm still lagging. Bugs me that I don’t know what I wanna do with my life."

"One, bully for them. Two, I do the lagging around here, you work the plans. Three, find something _you_ wanna do, then run with it ‘til you're bored. But never try to play catchup. With anybody—trust me on that. Live how you want.”

Faith had to stop herself before she got too philosophical and made herself sick. Ex-cons shouldn't offer sage advice. "Whatever, I'm bullshitting."

Buffy turned her head toward her embarrassed bedfellow. "Doesn't sound like it."

“Yeah, well...”

When Faith didn't get the jibe she expected, she realized, no, neither of them were bullshitting right now. They were talking about real shit. And Buffy wanted to hear what she had to say, which she was still thrown by.

Suddenly she was in an entirely different headspace than thirty seconds ago. It led to territory she hadn’t wandered through for years, and why the hell her mouth was moving? “Doesn’t always have to be a bad thing, goin’ tilt. Sometimes it uh, has an upside. Actually did for me once, then I—"

"Faith, we weren't ready."

 

______

 

Thankfully one of them had the guts to start this. After four years.

"But I didn't ever..." Buffy had to get it out. "I'm glad it happened; that we had that,” she blushed. "Everything after is what I wish didn’t. And there was a lot of after.”

In her senior year, she and Faith had trailed these vampire lackeys of an obese demon named Balthazar into Sunnydale's sewers. It hadn’t sucked. Following an intense fight where death got cheated, the victorious pair wound up back at Faith's motel room.

Slayers tended to feel an overwhelming high from their work. A buzzing, all-too-palpable rush of energy that needed release. Buffy usually denied herself, but for one night, she forgot why. She let go. There'd only been the present moment, and the moment consisted solely of her and Faith.

They seemed to know instinctively how to drive the other to the brink and back again. “Hesitant” and “shy” became non-existent words. Fast, heated and crazy—with the simple goal of helping a friend unwind. However, and they weren't sure what changed, the intense-but-casual “one-off” evolved. Into something much slower, and more meaningful.

What began almost as a competition (albeit a pleasurable one), somehow carried this emotional weight by the end. Baggage like that was the last thing they'd wanted; if they’d known, probably they wouldn’t have gone through with it. Except they did.

In the morning, wrapped in warm, protective limbs, they awoke to Reality, who was in the mood to be a bitch that day. And awkwardness paved way for the disastrous months ahead. It all escalated until nothing else but what occurred in that loft, could have.

 

______

 

"Only time I wasn't itchin' to move. When I didn't want you gone? Damn, that weirded me out," Faith admitted, still processing the fact that Buffy didn't see their one night as a shameful, low point.

"Kinda noticed," Buffy said, then sighed. "Wasn't like I was any better at grasping, though. The 'girl' thing was new, and I’d technically just cheated on my boyfriend who I was in major denial over, and what we did was..."

She blushed yet again. "Being the best sex I've ever had didn't exactly help. Then we just, left it hanging."

Wait a minute—that wasn't past tense.

Sitting up, Faith felt considerably less at ease. "I'm the bullshitter, Buffy; busted my ass for the title, so—"

"Great, ‘cause I don't wanna compete for it. I'd lose by a _wide_ margin." Grinning, Buffy sat up as well. "I wouldn't lie about this...really was."

Faith asked, not at all cocky, "Why?"

"Because..." Buffy knew she'd have to explain, so she just charged forth past her nerves. "Because it was. Angel was my first and I loved him, so at the time it was nice, but a lot of it was him trying not to hurt me. Did anyway. I honestly can’t remember much anymore. Angelus is a big reason why, but he isn’t every reason."

She exhaled. "Parker knew what he was doing but, wasn't enough. Also, he was pretty basically a fucking asshole. Same with Riley—well, no to the 'asshole' part. I guess I kept waiting to fall for him like I had with Angel...not so much.

“The sex wasn't as 'Cloud Nine-ish' as it coulda been. Um, except maybe that time we were possessed. We went all—"

Faith coughed loudly to interrupt. "Leaves 'Bachelor Vamp #2. And you hadda be spikin' like jackrabbits. Musta been intense."

"We did. It was," came Buffy’s honest admittance. "But I hated myself. During, in between durings...” Beat. “I used him to feel anything, but I never could. No matter how har— _much_ I tried. It got ugly, and...it wasn’t the healthiest for either of us."

She grimaced, which then morphed into a slow smile.

"With you? Okay, we didn’t understand each other. Doubt that’s news. But—whether it’s your ‘Chosen Two’ theory or something completely else—we _got each other_. We synced. Especially then, and those memories haven’t gone anywhere. They won’t. Even if other ones need to go away.”

Faith inhaled. She knew which others Buffy meant, and didn’t know how to feel, Angel meaning what he did to her now. Even so, “Best night of my life.”

Sitting beside one another as they were, it didn’t take much effort on Buffy’s part to place a kiss on Faith’s forehead. “So incredible it was scary. Feeling wasn't a problem, and I wanted you to feel with me, and...we should’ve gotten longer. That’s how come everything after—“

“—hurt like hell?” Faith spoke thickly and rough. From crying. “Like chopping off a limb that screws with you by still actin’ like you didn’t? ‘Cause it knows how bad you wanna take it back? Yeah.”

Buffy squeezed her hand, and the tough, unflappable world saviors sat together, never commenting on such things as tears. They were busy wishing they could forget the past that came after. And why wouldn’t they?

Wanting to pretend nothing had changed, that all was fine, they overdid it on friendship the next day. Slaying, dancing, robbing...accidentally murdering. They received a harsh wakeup call, and made one bad decision that begat more. If only things had been less complicated to begin with.

"Weren't we just gonna kick back and save a toadstool?" Faith wondered, clearing her throat and rubbing bad-assedly at her eyes.

Buffy chuckle-sniffled, rolling back the heaviness. "Definitely sidetracked."

 

______

 

Before either of them could decide what next, much to their relief, Dawn came into the room.

"I thought you guys were back. Xander wanted me to tell you that he thinks everyone should like, do something together in a couple weeks when you stop hoarding all the free time, and other people finally have some. Guess where he wants to go?"

Her eyes drifted to the Nintendo cartridges, bypassing clasped hands and red eyes.

"Nuh-uh! You bought Duck Hunt? That better be real."

Andrew materialized in the doorway. "Did they get the Light Gun, too?"


	12. Part Three: Chapter Three

It was Fourth of July weekend. Xander, Willow, Fred, Kennedy, Dawn, Buffy, Faith (setting aside her issues with fours), and Andrew were split off into mini-groups, wandering around one of California's fine amusement parks. A much-needed break for most, while for Buffy and Faith, this was just another day in their lazy summer.

The slayers’ mini-group included Dawn and Kennedy, though they were all going to meet up for lunch in an hour. Despite having eaten many unhealthy things already.

Currently, Buffy stood stock still, lips parted in a perfect O, with her left eyebrow arched. She gaped at the woman in front of her, unable to utter a single word. 

Faith was grinning from ear to ear, bouncing on her feet giddily, as she darted her excited eyes around, clutching an oversized, teal-blue bear. Her arms were crossed over it protectively. She practically molded the fuzzy animal into her chest.

Their unfinished conversation remained unfinished, but they agreed, when there were confident answers to give, they’d revisit it. Certainly wasn't bothering them today.

 

______

 

"Coolest day ever," declared Faith, attention focused someplace past her companion.

Eyes glazing, her hold on the bear loosened a bit.

"It's only 11:30," Buffy managed to sputter, quickly having to twirl to keep Faith in her line of sight. The girl started to walk away, face full of mindless determination. "What? Where are you...? Conversing here!"

She debated whether or not she should follow, before ultimately giving in.

"Pirate ship." The words carried on the wind—Faith decided it wasn't necessary to look at whom she was speaking. "Yo," she suddenly spouted a second later, facing Buffy as though she'd remembered a thing of extreme importance, "hold, uh...Wuzzie, would ya?"

She tossed the bear to Buffy once she’d decided on a name, and then hopped over the rail to the ride.

"Wuzzie?" Buffy asked softly, looking down at the stuffed animal like it’d bite.

"’Cause he's fuzzy," Faith called back, coming to a stop at the end of the line.

She glared at the back of the head of the person impeding her progress.

"Uh huh," muttered Buffy, watching Dawn and Kennedy for the first time since Faith had hit the jackpot at the pitching booth, and promptly gone insane.

"You’re seeing this, too. You have to. I'm not imagining her being all...chipper," she addressed them, the last word coming out in a squeak. "I mean, you do, right? Right?"

Dawn glanced at Kennedy, sharing a, “I-can't-believe-I'm-related-to-this-freak” look with the slayer, before stepping towards Buffy and patting her sister’s back in a falsely reassuring manner. She took a deep breath, head shaking with dismay.

"Yes, Buffy. It's what us non-crazy people wackily call, 'having fun,'" she explained as if to a dumbass. "You can tell when people are ‘cause usually they do this strange thing where their lips curl up and show off their teeth. But in a good way, not a scary, anti-social, 'I vant to zuck your blaad' way."

"It's sort of the whole reason people go to amusement parks. To be like, amused. Plus, the tortured, ex-convict routine would scare the kids, and that'd be no fun for anyone," Kennedy piped up teasingly, nodding her head to conclude her important point.

"But it's _Faith_ ," Buffy complained.

The topic herself was leaning against one of the railings, impatiently tapping her foot, stopping only to rise onto her tiptoes and check out the line. Unfortunately, she smiled in their direction and Dawn couldn’t retort.

"Junior, Mini-Me," Faith repressed a chuckle when Kennedy frowned at the nickname, "you comin' or what?"

"What about me?" Buffy asked, while the other girls joined her in line.

"The Sitter can't ride." Was the blond hair-dye going to her brain?

"I could just rest Wuzzie over there..."

"Screw that! Someone might take...shim." Faith looked alarmingly at the nearest bench, which was a good meter from the exit line.

Buffy's grip on the bear smartly tightened. "Shim?"

"Gender's hard to tell with bears. Jumped the gun on that before," shrugged Faith. "Relax, Mini-Me's got next watch, then you and me'll be plummeting to earth screamin' our heads off while the pusses in the other cart piss themselves on...'The Elevator From Hell.'"

She pronounced the last part in a cheesy, booming, ominous tone.

Buffy didn’t see that on the map. "Huh?"

"Christ, it's 'Drop Zone,' all right? But that doesn't sound as wicked in my 'booming voice.'" Faith had to use it when she said “booming voice” because, well, the voice was just fun. "You can wait with us before we gotta ditch ya," she offered charitably.

"You're sweet," Buffy commented wryly, though walked closer to lean on the railing with them nonetheless, Wuzzie tucked protectively under her arm.

"Yup—bestest there is." Faith was acting like a little girl.

Buffy smirked. "Bestest _ass_."

"Thanks." And the girl was silenced. "Got lotsa props in the showers. Day one, guards tell you not to cop a peek, but whatcha gonna do?” There was a smile, as if Faith was remembering treasured times of old. “Dirty skanks.”

Just what had transpired in that prison anyway?

 

______

 

"And then there's..." Faith was saying until she wasn’t. "Gonna finish that?" she asked Dawn, distracted by the half-finished plate of fries. "Waste not-want not, Junior."

"What?" Dawn asked back, just as distracted. She was stretching her thumb back toward herself, trying to keep it away from Kennedy. "Oh, yeah. Whatever. Take it."

Concentrating on the contest, she shifted on the wooden bench to get better positioned.

"Your thumb is mine!"

"You speak brashly, young one," Kennedy replied in a voice similar to the one used by every extra in any movie based on “Ye Olden British Times.” "Can your ass cash the check your mouth just wrote?"

"Hey, my ass is totally good for it," Dawn promised, eyes narrowed as she readied for combat. "Not like it matters, ‘cause I'm gonna eat your thumb for breakfast."

Buffy chuckled, shooting her oblivious sister a look. Probably a good thing Willow wasn't there to hear any of that. Though it was weird, Willow not being with her girlfriend. 

"...And then we should, oh yeah, hell yeah, we should totally check out that Rapids ride..." Faith babbled on.

She only stopped talking when she ate, and even then the pauses were so brief that no one could be absolutely sure she was actually chewing—it was fascinating.

"Ohh, ohh, ohh! Mini-Putt! I rock the greens. I'm all like, 'You want a piece'a this?' and the Par 3 is like, 'No ma'am,' and I'm all, 'That's right, you best be respectin'.'"

She tilted her head to the right and left for each respective voice, and moved her hand in a slapping motion when she talked about getting her props.

"I thought you were gonna cut back with that?" Buffy was certain that Faith had mentioned every single ride and activity in the park on her, “And Then...” list.

The human vacuum cleaner popped a cold, but still delicious fry into her mouth. "Yeah, I'm on a 'Twelve-Step' and...VR Arcade! We gotta," she exclaimed post-swallow, and then flashed what Buffy guessed was some sort of gang sign, before grabbing Wuzzie back and holding shim at her side lovingly.

"VR?" Kennedy started to ask, but she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her thumb.

"Ha!" Dawn was clamping down on her opponent’s thumb like it was a ruptured artery. "My ass and I mock you."

"Ice show, too," Faith broke in, slapping Buffy on the arm. "Definitely, definitely the ice show."

Today had been full of surprises. Not only had Buffy gotten to meet, “Hopped Up on Life” Faith, but also, “Rain Man” Faith. You couldn't buy stuff like that. Made her smile.

"Is 'Kennedy' your first name, or your last?" Dawn was basking in the afterglow of her win. "Need to know for the 'Told You I'd Kick Your Ass' card I'm gonna put in the mail. I'm thinking of using glitter to spell out how awesome I am in it."

Sullen, and desperate for a rematch the other girl mumbled, "Just 'Kennedy.'"

Dawn extended her index and baby finger to make a hand phone. "Well, the 80s called, and they want their trend back."

"Sure, I'll tell that to Shakira, Pink...gosh, uh, _Madonna_..." Kennedy shot back, pointing a triumphant finger in Dawn’s face. 

"Frick!"

Game. Set. Match.

"Funnel cake," Faith chirped abruptly. "Definitely funnel cake, definitely."


	13. Part Three: Chapter Four

In another area of the park, Willow, Fred and Xander had to stop near the Ring Toss booth because Andrew was getting hyperactive.

"Xander, oh, can you win me that? It's the helmet the clone army wore in Episode II. Remember? You know, the pre-Storm Trooper design that the Galactic Empire would institute decades later during Darth Sidious', unflinching, cruel reign of terror?

“Pretty please? I'll-I'll do your laundry for a whole week. Besides, you know you have no idea about grease stains. I wish you'd be more careful, because it's hard work getting those out, and I'm not a miracle worker, okay?"

The prize he so coveted was a cheap, plastic replica, and the more mature male was set to deny him.

"That boy ain't right," Xander said to the ladies.

Fred giggled, while Willow smirked. "Aw, be nice. He's got a crush—do you wanna break his heart into tiny pieces? Nope, not my best friend, ‘cause that wouldn't be very friendly. So go throw, you big, unappealing, muscle-y man. Shoo."

" _Then_ I can let him down easy?"

Someone had gone pale. They started pushing him closer to the booth.

Willow rolled her eyes. "It's harmless. Just play one game; make him happy," she sighed, shaking her head. "Nerd-o-phobe. Goddess..."

He looked ready to debate, but Andrew beckoned, so to get him to shut up, he left the women by themselves. They watched the hi-jinks for a minute or so until Andrew was scolded, and then Fred nervously ventured—

"Breaks are pretty nice, huh?" She shared her cotton candy.

Willow smiled while taking a bite. "Even better than nice, sometimes."

"I know Angel really appreciates everything you're doing for Cordelia," Fred continued, waiting for her opening. "Well, not _just_ Angel—we all do. Because she means a lot to everybody, and it's so wonderful how you're spending so much time trying to, you know. And helping me in the lab, ‘cause things like bein’ crazy in there.

“Which you clearly already know about since I just said you're there too. Practically every day. Anyways, it's great." She bit her lip as Willow's brow rose in question. "Um, how're you and Kennedy doing?"

Another bite of fluffy candy.

 

______

 

Willow’s eyes grew wide. "What, wh-who—?"

"Sorry! I'm sorry! It's only, see, Buffy and Xander asked me to ask you, ‘cause I think they were worried, and since they said y'all don't exactly butt into each others' love lives that I should. Don’t actually know why, but they figured you probably wouldn't get angry with me," spoke Fred in a rush. "Did I say yet how sorry I am, in case you are? In fact, I hope you're royally pissed.

“What was I thinking? I had no right to bring up the subject at all. Sure, we're both workaholics, but what does that count for really? Would two chefs share their life stories just because they _happen_ to both be chefs? No! Not to mention that _of course_ they’d compete for all kinds of business!" She was rather comically angry with herself. Enough for two. "I'm such a rude bitch."

Willow laughed. "You are not! I just wasn't expecting your butt. Uh, butt _ing_! Butting in! With, that-that question. Yep, that's all."

She looked away very much on purpose.

"It-it's true, we love getting binge-y on workohol. But also? We’re friends. Who can totally ask things. Things that don’t have to be about where to find _more_ workohol."

Under control of her facial expressions now, she met Fred's eyes, frowning—gee, why weren't she and Kennedy hanging out much lately?

"I guess me, Buffy and Xander don't talk about our relationships much. We tease, and then tease more, but no serious talk."

Maybe that would have to change.

Her feelings for Kennedy hadn't progressed like she'd hoped, or possibly, not hoped. Her girlfriend wasn't stupid, either; she knew something was up, that she was being avoided. She hadn't even said a word when they all split off this morning.

In her confused state, Willow had had to be around Fred on a daily basis. Someone she liked a bunch, and had plenty in common with. It was only natural that her eye would wander, though she wasn't going to tell Fred that.

"Maybe you oughta," Fred encouraged.

"After I yell at them for making you think I'd get even a tiny bit mad, I will," Willow smiled reassuringly.

She checked to see Xander shoveling out another dollar to placate Andrew, and then found that she was answering Fred’s question.

"Kennedy's been all 'Slay-Ho' lately, and hanging out with Dawn and the other girls, and I've been having fun with you..." She caught herself, but felt her nerves go up a notch. "With you in the lab. Co-working hard, being super productive...like people are, when they're both on the same, um, floor. Often. Do-doing work stuff."

She sucked at hiding things, but her friend only ate more candied cotton, pretended not to notice, and let her talk.

"’Cordelia research’ is important right now, Kennedy understands that. It's just separate 'Me Time,' and that’s good. It's not like we hafta be together _constantly_ ; we-we don't wanna start smothering."

That was half the truth, and one of the problems.

"Right. You don't wanna get sick of each other and get into squabbles for no reason. ‘Cause then later when you have a reason that’s perfect, you won’t get half a syllable out. Just like that, things might get different, and you knew the millisecond it happened, and your stomach’s queasy, but it's gone too far past to fix." Fred got carried away again.

Perhaps she hadn't made her peace with certain, Gunn-related events after all. Before Willow could interject, she released a breath and brightened.

"But if it hasn’t...the best part’s that, the next time you have...well, when you, um... _when you shut your door and tell everyone to stay the hell out of the hallway_ ," She settled on the most polite reference she could think of, "bet you’ll see stars. Or supernovas. I always love feelin’ like jelly afterwards."

She smiled to herself, unaware of the flushing redhead.

 

______

 

The men returned, ending the conversation. Andrew wore his new mask over his face, leaving Xander to show the ladies his depleted wallet.

"Who woulda thought there'd actually be cobwebs? See, cartoons do teach valuable lessons," he told them.

"Do not worry, when the Senator claims this system and all who dwell within it, your generosity shan't go unrewarded for long," Andrew announced in a muffled, bad, stately British accent.

Xander’s fists began to clench.

"Isn't it lunchtime?" Fred said quickly, guiltily eating more pink cloud and passing it back to Willow.

"Ooh, fries with bubbly-hot fake cheese! Bucket-sized! Faith better not have cleaned the place out." Xander went on ahead at a speed just below bolting.

"C'mon, Andrew," ordered Willow, frustrated in several ways with the entire situation, and the man-kid marched behind them as a soldier would.

With a flick of her finger, he was moving so fast he nearly fell down.


	14. Part Three: Chapter Five

"Never again, Will—we promise," Buffy spoke for both her and Xander.

But he added anyhow, "Swear on my patchless eye."

Night had fallen, and the park's lights shone down so that all its visitors could find their way to a primo spot to watch the fireworks. Most of them had indeed left the rides to go be patriotic for fifteen minutes, which was why Faith insisted that the group hop on the roller coaster. According to her, the elevation meant the best view, and the speed made it like a wicked, psychedelic trip without the side effects.

Not that she knew much about psychedelic trips or anything.

The three, original Scoobies were chatting farthest down the sparse line. Dawn and Kennedy were ahead of them, while Fred kept a close eye on Andrew, and Faith was closest to the ride. She’d forced her way through, urging everyone to pick up the pace.

Willow had just finished chastising her family about going through Fred to find out how she was. If their shame was any indication, her message was clear. When they got to the hotel, there'd be things to get off her chest.

"’Kay, group hug," she said, and was immediately obliged. "Later—you, me and ice cream?"

Buffy nodded. "In my head, the pajamas are on already."

"Exactly what do my gals wear to bed these days?" Xander wondered suggestively.

"You'll never give up, will you?"

"Such a guy," muttered Willow.

"Blame it on the peeper, I just tag along," he joked badly. "Ya know, Giles is closing in on that government deal. It’s gonna be in England somewhere. 'Black Op' with SAS support, the whole magilla."

"Yeah, he was telling us," Buffy said, thinking about it. "He really wants to do it right this time. Seems like he has it all figured."

Xander hesitated. "Thinkin' about going with when he flies over there, maybe supervise the constructing."

"What about opening the hotel with Lorne?" Willow asked, surprised at his news. "They're moving out soon, and there's still..."

"Union's chock full of talent—demons aren’t so evil when they're not being evil. We drew up the blueprints; Lorne's all set," he explained, and then exhaled. "I wanna stay local, but I can't work for Angel, Will, and I'm not gonna get a job the traditional way anymore."

Buffy looked down, and he realized his mistake.

"I didn't mean..."

She looked back up at him with a sad smile. "I know." Here again, she had to face that her life was directionless. "Do whatever you have to, Xand."

"We know how to be supportive," smiled Willow as well, also a little sadly. "I'm kinda gonna miss Sunnydale. Everybody was under one roof...wow, did I say that?"

Faith had reached them. "Move it, B! Pump those dwarf-sizes!" She took Buffy’s hand and pulled her along, yelling to the other two, "See ya on the track!"

When the group reformed earlier, Willow offered sympathy over Faith's carefree attitude and new, squeezable best friend. Strange as they were, it made her giggle and not want to beat anybody to death with a shovel.

 

______

 

Willow’s eyebrows rose at Buffy, who looked back with a very girlish grin. Her brows stayed up as she listened in on the pair of young brunettes in front of her.

"Red or Mokey?" Dawn was questioning.

"Easy. Mokey."

"What? She painted all the time! She was so repressed!"

Kennedy smirked. "And quiet...too quiet. I’m talking zoned out, off in Outer Space, tripping balls, ‘Zen’ quiet.” She finger-quoted. “Like there was something laced into those radishes." Her smirk was soon a grin. "Just let me have this one, and admit Mokey was the closet ho of Fraggle Rock! You know the Doozers hadta be building her sex toys on the sly."

"You French your mother with that mouth?” Dawn accused. “Slut."

"Lesbo-slut. Get it right."

Dawn stuck her tongue out at that remark.

"Sorry, seeing someone,” quipped Kennedy. “At least I'm not like a repressed, blue-haired Muppet."

"What kind of weirdo, wannabe superhero can't even win at thumb-wrestling? Gotta think..."

"Whatever...virgin."

"Walking STD."

Kennedy began chasing her through the line, and they flew past Buffy and Faith, right to the seats.

 

______

 

"Kid was made outta you, right?" Faith asked.

"Really oversimplified answer? Yes."

"Wonder if she jumps fence too...into the garden."

"Faith!" Buffy was stunned as well as a sprinkle outraged. "Dawn and innuendo shouldn't _ever_ mingle—are you listening? It's scheevy. She's my baby sister!"

Faith grinned, and gave her Wuzzie guarding duties for the second time. "Look, when Andy gets up here? He holds onto shim, or it’s fubar time. He wants to puss-out, he gets put to work."

She headed for the front seats, next to Dawn and Kennedy.

"And Wuzz isn't a goddamn Ewok!"

"Rainbow Brite or Smurfette?" It was Kennedy's turn, and Dawn just stared at her with a “You've gotta be kidding” face. "Okay, okay, that's a gimmie."

 

______

 

"Xander! Those jerks stole the front!" Buffy complained when her friends made it to the platform, and she handed the stuffed animal off to Andrew. "Your life depends on it."

"Second row! Dash!" Xander exclaimed, and he and Buffy wound up next to a thirteen-year-old boy who was gripping the shoulder bars, white-knuckled. He then whispered, "Late first-timer. Probably a dare."

"I might scream with him," she confessed.

"No worries, Buf. We'll come up with an airtight cover story."

"Best friend a girl could have."

 

______

 

A few rows back, Willow and Fred were sitting with a large, coaster enthusiast.

"All right! Whoo! This is gonna rule! Yeah! Hit the switch!"

Willow cringed. "Up ‘til now—"

"—we didn’t get a single headache from all the fun we’ve had today? Giganimous ditto," Fred cringed along. "But the ride ain’t hardly anything, and it’ll be over before you’ll wanna hex him too badly. I think.”

 

______

The contraption shifted into gear with a loud CHONK, and they were moving up the initial hill. Heads turned to see the explosions of color, and there were “Oohs” and “Ahhs”...until they plummeted. And Faith couldn't stop smiling in the first row.

This was hands down, her second best memory, and nothing had to be beat up for her to enjoy herself. Coolest day ever. Definitely.

Provided Andrew behaved himself with her bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part Three


	15. Part Four: Chapter One

Late August nights in Los Angeles were a far cry from cool and comfortable. Hot, sticky and stifling was more apt a description. On the plus side, vampires, despite being room temperature all the days of their eternal lives, found the heat too oppressive for prowling and killing. The same could be said of plenty demons, except Kennedy handled the fanged ones almost exclusive—leaving the others to Angel Investigations—and it was her night to patrol...until she was given a reprieve.

Being the oldest once-Potential had perks. Meant she could go with the elder slayers, and Willow and Xander, to “Shapes,” a club/bar downtown that wasn't discriminatory. It let everyone and anyone in of all shapes and sizes (hence the name), that was at least seventeen—though you had to be twenty-one to drink.

A fairly modern place with above average bathroom cleanliness, it had a large dance floor, every salty snack known to man, and a never-ending supply of remixes.

After she and Dawn had worn Buffy down, the newly seventeen-year-old younger sister was allowed to come. For a somewhat belated birthday celebration. Kennedy was two years ahead of her in age, but only pulled that card when she wanted to rile her up.

Riling got put on hold while dancing, though. The club tried cranking its air conditioning, but perspiration in these situations was inevitable. Yeah, inevitable.

Eventually she'd get the guts to formally ask her out...eventually. She was hesitant to start something with girls who played for either side. It was her own mental block, but Kennedy wasn't sure if Dawn knew what Dawn wanted from this.

If Kennedy stopped living in her head for two seconds, she'd see her dance partner’s “wild abandon” groove style as a massive signal. But her attention kept dividing between Faith and Xander's spot on the floor, to Buffy and Willow at one of the tables. She tried not to laugh at the expression of abject shock and fear targeted towards the free-spirit she had the privilege of letting loose with.

Buffy was showing remarkable maturity and restraint. Kennedy could tell the urge to “mother” was strong. Whatever wrinkles needed ironing, it'd be taken care of—her ex was good people.

 

______

 

"It's okay to breathe, Buffy. She's a responsible, grown person, and you're trusting her. It's perfectly normal; you-you should be proud," Willow was partially teasing her as they sat a few feet away. "Aww. I think Kennedy's kinda intimidated. That's so..."

Buffy focused on her, still distraught.

"...new. But not cute in any way whatsoever."

"I was hoping I was imagining things," Buffy frowned, because her sister being involved with someone, especially Kennedy, was...was...

Ugh. Faith and her “fence-jumping” innuendo.

"Can't I still be imagining things?" she asked, and her best friend just sipped an alcoholic, fruit concoction. "You had to go and break up, didn't you? Damn it."

"We both talked and admitted to the drifting towards other things, and...people," Willow hadn't needed to add that, but “Off-Kilter Buffy” made priceless faces, "and how we shoulda figured out that our relationship fit pretty snuggly into the 'Wartime' category.

“We got each other through a scary situation and it was amazing while we did, but we really didn’t work in any of the categories where it’s forever, and why am I explaining again?"

"Because I tried to guilt you in a way that was totally non-serious and you didn't wanna catch the 'non'?" replied Buffy innocently.

"It wasn't there to catch! There was just Mr. Big Invisible Air, and you only catch him in jars. D’you see any? Because I didn't come jar-handy; I'm sure I didn't. No extra weight or anything...that's how I'd know."

"It was too! Right there, clear as day. Or since it's the PM now, as night-vision goggles."

Willow mock-glared, and then grinned mischievously. "If it makes you feel any better, Kennedy's gentle most of the time. You probably wouldn't think so, but—"

"No. No, no, no, no. _No_. We're never bringing up this subject again, and-and it's not up now. It's down...gah, it's not that, either! Words are evil." The big sister felt dread in the pit of her stomach. "Have you been hanging out with Faith? If she put you up to this, I'll—"

"How could I? You're like two magnets who always wind up stuck together; you're like...a Slayer Super-Magnet. That's un-pullapartable," Willow commented, and then smiled enthusiastically. "Oooh, let's talk about your love of attraction. Have you always been a magnet appreciator? ‘Cause I don't remember ever knowing that before. Isn't that funny?"

Buffy deadpanned, "First it was refrigerators, but then magnets came all naturally. When’d you start thinking curvy, lab coats and glasses were fashionable?"

Willow frowned. "You could've at least couched it."

"What, it was couched." There was silence for a moment. "Possibly love-seated. But look! Faith's out there with Xander. She's been at a distance for fifteen—"

"Five. It's only been one song."

Just felt like fifteen minutes then.

"Song and a half. The point is, we can be separated. Hey, she went fishing for him."

Buffy looked to the dance floor, and saw several more females eying Xander than there had been. His eye was still a blow to his self-esteem, and Faith helped boost it. They both watched long enough to see that he was happier than he’d been in months.

They wouldn't have wanted him to leave tomorrow with a black cloud overhanging.

Willow had a cloud of purple nervousness, however. "I like Fred."

"Hadn't noticed," Buffy smirked. "C'mon, ask her out. How could she not like you back? Besides, you know you fall hard for sweet people. Oz, Tara...and they'd have to approve. Fred is like a human Pixie Stick."

Her best friend blushed.

"I guess you like _your_ magnets sap-drenched, huh?"

"Boy, do I," Willow grinned again, deliberately moistening her lip. "Mmmm...sticky."   

"Willow! Oh my god. I don't care what you say, Faith's been coaching, and it's gotta stop." There was a long swig of beer from the shell-shocked Buffy.

"I can be spicy all on my own, thank you," Willow firmly asserted, and that confidence faded as she tried to apply logic to waiting with Fred. "But, can't date yet—when the 'life train' stops moving so fast, it'll be less bumpy. Yep, nice and safe at a station is better."

She sighed.

"Stuff's changing again, you know? Giles and Xander are leaving tomorrow, they're taking most of the girls, maybe even Andrew...he is a good filer/organizer. Then starting Monday? I'm officially in charge of the Mystical Division, Angel's employee, with-with my own office. And business cards! Hello, responsibility. So I'm waiting for things to settle."

"I get it." Everyone was accepting responsibility, and Buffy didn't want it. Not the “good fight” kind—was she wrongly being selfish?

"As long as it's not ‘cause of Kennedy. Or Tara," she continued.

"Tara's always there. I love her; she helped me be me. She isn't in the way, though. Not anymore," smiled Willow. "You're right. Fred would've passed with flying, rainbow-colors if they ever met, and Tara would ask you and Faith, 'What in the name of chocolaty fudge?' Then she'd conk your heads together, in a...polite way, because you're both dry-humpy dufuses.

“Um, maybe I'm mixing up what _she’d_ do, with what I wanna do."

"Gonna ignore that." Buffy rapped her fingers on the table, knowing she couldn't avoid this. "It isn't...we've had feelings for a long time. That isn't the hold up. It's more like, uh, that I'm cookie dough...actually, her too…we're a giant glob of cookie dough, and—"

"Oh, I thought he was kidding," Willow winced, interrupting the analogy. "I heard how this goes, and whoo, are you two ready to be eaten." Beat. "Hi there, images."

She was kicked under the table, and she yelped. "Ouch."

"Anyway,” Buffy said slowly, “it's not something we wanna hurry into, because we don't wanna make the same mistakes. Or all new ones. We're trying to find out who we are and get comfy with that before going...anyplace that's further. And there's crazy amounts of 'happy' already—it's powerful, Will. Just being cautious ‘til we're sure."

"Of what?"

"Ourselves." Buffy half-smirked at Willow's befuddlement. "I know. If I wasn't me, I wouldn't understand us."

"Well whenever you're comfy, at least you know how she feels about you. And vice-versa."

"Yeah..." Buffy wiped her hands on her pants and stood up, thoughts pounding in her mind. "I miss fresh air. If they crash at some point, tell 'em I'll be back."

Willow nodded without argument. "Buffy? Dawn could just be going through a phase where she's curious. I mean, the one boy she kissed did, yunno, turn out to be a vampire—"

"Runs in the family," Buffy grumbled, while Willow kept going.

"—and she loved me and Tara, so just...wait'n'see, okay? But about Kennedy...if they...she'll take care of her. She’s a hugantic softy."

Buffy grinned. "Hugantic? Hmm, doesn't sound very Willow-ish."

Uh huh, somebody had it bad.

"I like Kennedy, I do, and they have fun together, so I'm trusting. Dawn's not stupid—she wants to fall for an attractive someone with a slayer sex drive? Her choice. I'll be the cool, older sister and hope she knows what she's doing," Buffy promised herself, fears temporarily squashed as she went to a side door. "Thank god the monks forgot to give her my issues."


	16. Part Four: Chapter Two

Buffy stood just back from the end of alley she exited into, against the wall. It led out to the bustling city street. From where she was, she could see the club's neon sign flickering to the right, the triangle in “SHAPES” burnt out completely. Why was it that seemingly every sign meant to be bright and shiny, never stayed that way for long?

It was like they were afraid of achieving their maximum, illumination potential.

Potential. If ever a word was branded in her brain...

Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking.

Or maybe she’d thought too little recently. Been too free of cares, and now with her core group of seven years disbanding, was forced to make a damn decision. This wasn't Sunnydale—which had served as her own personal life vacuum—this was way bigger.

Her vacuum had dramatically collapsed in on itself three months earlier. Then for the first time, she'd turned to mindless fun as an escape, mostly avoiding serious thinking. Faith also got onboard with the idea. They kept each other preoccupied, and she hid from the fact that she was a slayer.

Not the Slayer. Just a random someone in a gaggle of random someones, who shared the ability _to_ slay. She was all sorts of fine with that, because she had lived up to her potential. Other girls were about to have their chance, Kennedy among them.

Her biggest fear was her sister becoming devastated. There were risks dating a slayer, something Buffy and her exes knew firsthand. It was high-risk, isolating, nail-bitingly nerve-wracking...any night could be the last.

She didn't want Dawn to suffer that, but one lesson she'd learned: if a thing was meant to happen, it would no matter what. So she’d let Dawn and Kennedy live their lives. Just seemed familiar. But it could end as fast as it was beginning. Who knew?

Buffy exaggerated her shock and awe inside. It did catch her off-guard, but they really did seem to mesh. They deserved a chance. To be whatever they wanted.

While she deserved her chance to be “Buffy.” After gradually losing track of her around sixteen, seventeen, so far it had been an interesting rediscovery process. She wasn’t so terrible. She just had that decision to make.

Like she'd told Faith, falling back into slaying would be easy. Because she knew it. Was that a life, though? If it wasn’t, that meant having to get one, and what did life look like for a “Buffy” who didn’t define herself by her calling?

Was it wrong to want to go somewhere with a miniscule demon population? With people worrying about normal problems and going to normal jobs? She couldn’t imagine quitting hers full stop, but she knew full time guaranteed eventual, crushing misery.

The next generation would have teams working together who understood the toll and pulled one another up. Buffy might’ve been in the old one, but she knew she had that too.

"Rich honeys like us shouldn't be hangin' around alleys past sunset, B. Folks might get the wrong impression," Faith said, managing to saunter and swagger simultaneously.

Lately, she was part of a duo again.

 

______

 

"Which wrong impression?" Buffy asked, smiling as Faith stood next to her.

"Where we're a couple of bored, 'Virgin Bettys' waitin' on the next John Q. to take us for a test drive," grinned Faith slyly.

"You couldn't pull off 'virgin' if you tried, who are you kidding?"

A bird was flipped.

"No, wait, you'd be all innocent, right? Pigtailed, decked out 'Catholic Girl' with a lolly, ready to pop outta her shell—whole nine yards. Me? I'd be the smoking, rebel chick who's just dyin' to prove it. I pretend to talk you into it, we do the 'Yes/No' thing for a couple of minutes, really sellin’ it, then BAM." Faith assaulted the air quite forcefully to punctuate. "Wouldn't know what buses hit 'im. We'd lay the dude flat with some kinda double team, you know, after a wicked, finishing combo—"

"If we didn’t, what would be the point?" Buffy rhetorically agreed.

"—then sic the law on his soliciting ass."

Faith knew just when to come out, turn on the funny, and amuse when that was what Buffy needed. No other way to put it—she was a hell of an awesome person.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, cops are pretty useful when they're on your side, aren't they?"

"Thumbs up."

Faith made the appropriate gesture, and they both slid down the wall to sit on the concrete, holding their knees up near their chests.

"But a mil and a half each...damn. Can you believe that? _A mil and a half_! We're in the seven figures."

"Still waiting for it to sink in. This morning we were poor with no figures. Money-wise, I mean." Buffy grinned at her sauciness, that was mostly for Faith's benefit, and then asked, "How ‘bout you? Feel like a millionaire?"

"Not even in my wildest," Faith said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Giles came way deep outta left, didn't he? Being 'Papa MoneyBags' like that? He didn't hafta, 'specially to me, and all I could say was, 'Uh, thanks.'"

Streaks of luck were so foreign to her, and this was beyond that. Mind blown.

"Entire life, I'm corkscrewed over and again. Nothing new there, had years of practice. But when I make the quick decision to bail on a life sentence," She ticked off the events with her fingers, "get beat down by a giant, talkin' crag, shoot up, then roll into town for the Kong of apocalypses and almost get the army toasted? Now it's like I'm so golden I could piss the stuff. What did I do that was that fucking great?"

 

______

 

Yesterday, because everyone was free, there was a farewell party. Later that evening, Giles took Buffy and Faith out for a quiet dinner. They both thought it was to talk about last minute specifics of the England operation, maybe field their suggestions and ideas. While he did do that, the big surprise was the bank accounts with three million American dollars between them.

It had all come from the Council's assets. According to him, though it seemed like a large sum, it made only the smallest of dents in the grand total. He wanted the Chosen Two comfortably situated however they chose to proceed, and thought his dead, ex-employers should see to it, given their shoddy treatment of slayers for millennia.

Buffy and Faith agreed it was more than plenty, and sat dumbfounded the rest of the meal.

At one point, Buffy took Giles aside and made sure this was something he could afford. He allayed her concerns. As soon as he received dual government support, funding ceased being a hurdle. Should she or Faith ever want to join the team, they'd always be welcome, but he didn't say it like he was hinting at them to. Quite the opposite.

He was saying to go live peacefully, wherever that might be. So she hugged him, then Faith hugged him, and they left the restaurant with all the choices in the world.

A lazy summer could be a lazy lifetime, yet she and Faith both were fighting it. For their own reasons.

 

______

 

"You always do that. You always talk like you don't deserve things, ‘cause you're somehow not as good as me. I'm not better at this, Faith, and _definitely_ not saintly. If anything, you're the better one. More or less at life," Buffy told her in earnest. "You've seen the best and worst of the world, and survived.

“I haven't been there yet—I was in Sunnydale, getting farther and farther away from a human person. That's how I am. Been trying to change, to stop turning into 'Brick Wall Buffy,' but it's still the truth. You've got like this, electric personality though, and it works.

"It makes people wanna be around you—I'm amazed I've kept any friends. And yeah, you've made mistakes. Literally everybody does. But everybody doesn’t face them. When you _volunteered_ for prison, you made it through. I would've broken within a week, you didn't. Must’ve helped, because you're so...grounded now. Centered. Even when you’re ‘Queen of the Club’ in there, you can see it."

God, those eyes drew you in.

"You're also tougher than ever and about ten times more gorgeous. I feel like a hundred years’ve gone by since, gee, forever ago? Sorta been falling all downhill."

There was enough moonlight in the alleyway to call attention to the blush that arose on Faith's cheeks, but she recovered, incredulously asking—

"The hell? You have no idea how sexy you are, do ya? You're mature, yeah—in all the right places. It's the way you move, the presentation...you're like an old-time movie star or something. Graceful, with mystery goin' on behind the scenes. You just stand around, minding your own business, and people still zero in.

“And your body? Seen it, drove it, even got to ride on the hood once. Almost know it better than mine. I’m tellin’ you, it’s only improved with age."

“Like wine?” Buffy just sort of sat there for a second, allowing them both to absorb the much appreciated exchange of compliments.

It took another second for her to find her voice.

"Proves my point. That was—you wouldn't have said that back then. Not like that. You couldn't have, ‘cause of self-confidence, and me probably wigging/face-punching you. But you're a different person now, who doesn't belong in jail. And...thanks. For saying it."

They smiled at one another, before Faith frowned. "Except I still busted out and fucked up—doesn't make sense."

"And I didn't? One of my best friends lost his eye because of my brilliant plan to charge straight into an obvious trap. _That's_ a fuck up. Then I wanted to go in for round two, again, minus info. At least you had a strategy."

Buffy would never forgive herself for that.

"And here in L.A.? You sacrificed yourself to keep Angelus from killing. Coulda died. That's the definition of 'selfless.' It’s what a slayer has to be—while not minding the constant, psychological trauma—and that's what you are."

"I’m a murderer too. How's that balance the scales?"

"No, you're not. Not anymore. Don't you...?" Buffy trailed off when she saw the stubborn refusal in Faith's eyes. She realized, "We’re gonna go back and forth for the rest of our lives, aren't we? Tearing ourselves down, telling each other how dumb we sound, and it'll never change how we feel.

"But I'm asking, seriously try hard to believe this? There's no way there's a cosmic score system. ‘Cause as many bad decisions as we’ve both lost count of, we still have hugantic heaps of undeserved goldenness.

"Or maybe we do. Deserve it." She decided to be a little selfish for once. "It isn’t like we caved, right? Wanted to, but we kept fighting. Because we could. Pulled ourselves out of the dark and disturbing, just in time for more battling, and I think I remember we won, so...there’s a positive.

"It’s gotta be the kind of person you are at the end that matters—the actual end. Doesn't catching a break mean we're on track? I just wish it didn't leave my options so scarily wide open; I know you said they were a good thing, but—"

"Mighta jumped the gun again," Faith admitted, wavering on her previous opinion. “I’m lookin’ for the answer, same as you. Sucks.”

That came as a surprise. Buffy thought slaying was Faith’s passion, and at the very least, that she would stay in L.A. and be on-call if Angel needed her. Only, nope, they shared the “life decision” blues. It helped.

Having every choice just meant that much more pressure. They had to pick one they could both feel good about. The right one, if there was such a thing.

 

______

 

"But you oughta check out Xander. He’s got charm just rollin' off him, and the 'dangerous' angle? Plays it to the friggin' hilt with that patch. There’s a guy who's got choice," continued Faith, jumping tracks.

Given the jarring shift, apparently they weren’t going to be hashing out their mutual problem together in an alley.

"I'm glad,” smiled Buffy. “We saw what you did for him—it was sweet."

"Started the ball. He did the grunt work," Faith adopted the appropriate face to illustrate, and Buffy sighed in mock exasperation, because that was what she was supposed to do. "Uh, listen, Willow said—"

"That I had to escape because my sister was almost simultaneously on top of and underneath her ex-girlfriend, when she wasn't circling her like a wild, starved animal on some X-rated, nature show?"

"Maybe, yeah. I said I figured it was just a ‘big sis’ thing, not so much the young, femme love. ‘Cause, well," Faith shot Buffy a knowing grin, "hey."

"Yep, and Will knows."

Faith gaped. "You mean my pep talk was for nothin'? And she just let me yak? Cruel."

"She wants us to pick up the pace, I think. Don't know why she pictured it happening in an alley, but..." Buffy shook her head, still flabbergasted at the “smirky, sexual humorist” side of her best friend. "How did I miss when she became such a horn dog? And upfront about it?"

"She was used to slidin' down the rainbow daily, and now she's denied. All bets are off...’til Fred hops on."

Faith felt the shoulder jab, which she good-naturedly returned.

"Nobody gets our sitch. When Robin called this morning? He was on me about us, too. Better watch his step—they find out he's a 'supporter,' swear a buncha PTA moms'll try to have him blacklisted. Which sounds racist as fucking anything. Hope he sues ‘em into the ground. If they do."

It was probably good that he'd avoided an administrative position after the one at his last school. Teaching fifth grade would be a more productive contribution to society anyhow, and that left everyone but them on course for the immediate future. Great.

"This is what we get for not sharing," Buffy complained.

"It's _our_ baggage—heavy and personal," Faith argued for their side, brushing off the pressure. "Like you said, we're gonna bust our jaws everyday, yankin' each other up outta the pit, unless we take the time, and unpack it all our way. Plus, add the location? Kiss of death, no question."

"Exactly—and that’s not the type of kissing I wanna do."

"Me either. Hate to disappoint 'em, but they'll hafta suck it up."

_'Well whenever you're comfy, at least you know how she feels about you. And vice-versa,'_ echoed Willow’s words in Buffy’s mind.

"Besides, it isn't like we don't know," Buffy said, purposefully leaving the “what” out, because once it was spoken, restraint became next to impossible.

"S’ obvious," Faith agreed cautiously. "I've known since...damn near ever."

"So have I, I guess. It's just one of those things you—"

"Know. ‘Cause—"

"You can't not. Because you just do."

Faith questioned silently, _'No shit?'_ Then she spoke— "For a lotta reasons."

"A lot of 'should've-seen-before' reasons." Buffy's silent answer was, _'None.'_

Faith added, "And it's intense."

"Also amazing sometimes," Buffy concluded, ignoring Faith’s glower.

"So we do, yeah?" _'Sometimes? What the hell is that?'_

"Uh huh." Buffy tilted her head onto Faith’s shoulder after silently communicating, _'Kidding. Jesus.'_

Faith involuntarily smiled, and it was pained. "Need to put our shit to bed, B."

"Fast. Too bad we're so pathetic."

"Whoa, I stop at 'insecure.' Feel sorry for you, though." Beat. “Not that I don’t still dig ya...or still want you every time you’re walkin’ into a room these days...”

"Only then?” Buffy pouted. “I want you when you’re in rooms I can’t even see.”

 

______

 

But then she sighed. Teasing like that was cruel for them both, and what fun was that? She reluctantly rose to her feet and helped Faith up.

"Oh, I didn't wanna say anything earlier because you were venting, but, 'So golden I could piss the stuff?' Um, you should already be doing that. On a regular basis. Starting at birth, generally. Unless you have some weird infection..."

Teasing like _this_ , on the other hand, she’d capitalize on whenever opportunity knocked. They began to trek back to the doors.

"Got five words: Go blow a horse's—" Faith cut herself off as the doors flew open.

Kennedy charged out, ramming a vampire face first against the wall. The girl was pissed. Turning him, she hammered his face, socked him in the gut not once but thrice, and kneed his groin so hard his “junk” was now literally that. But he didn’t have time to mourn.  She staked him as Dawn came rushing.

They went up to Buffy and Faith, describing a mile a minute, what had transpired—in animated detail.

A guy was hitting on Dawn. Kennedy got annoyed. And then they had this covert exchange of nods where they both confirmed he was very much a vampire, making the slayer happy because she was legally allowed to kill him.  

It was all supposed to have been awesome and involve a chair, some trash talk, and a parachute pants-aided distraction. Buffy had zoned out quickly however, once she knew everything was fine. Kennedy could get the job done. She saw it.

When the teens returned into the club, chatting excitedly—in a few hours, maybe Dawn would realize what Kennedy semi-admitted in the thrill of the moment—suddenly Faith knew why the budding relationship threw her friend and partner off-balance. “Junior” and “Mini-Me.” There was nothing to say, except—

"Wanna get tanked?"

"As soon as _effing_ possible."

Sometimes Buffy could make a self-censor stronger than a full on cuss.


	17. Part Four: Chapter Three

Buffy stifled a yawn the following night, then pat her mouth a few times before letting her hand fall tiredly by her waist. She sighed and looked lazily at Faith lounging on the crate beside hers. Faith’s face was screwed up with concentration as she talked to herself softly...though when she caught the stare, she pretended to be clearing her throat.

Angel and company had taken up positions inside the warehouse about a half an hour earlier, beating the Ph’raha cultists to it by about ten minutes. She and Faith were acting as backup on this particular mission and had positioned themselves by the edge of the docks, amongst the same piles of crates they were lounging on. The many shadows hid them while they got a perfect view of the warehouse's sole exit.

"Okay, okay, I got it," Faith declared with a sudden excitement, grinning and nodding her head in Buffy’s direction.

"'Bout time," Buffy muttered. "I mean...yay," she added, though her partner was already utterly unimpressed by her enthusiasm.

Or lack thereof.

"North Dakota," Faith started counting off on her right hand, "Nebraska, New Mexico, Nevada, New York, New Jersey, and..."

She stumbled there, bringing the heel of her left hand to rub her temple roughly.

"New...New Hampshire!" she exclaimed finally, shooting Buffy the double, finger guns before smoothly merging that into a triumphant, “Cabbage Patch” dance.

Buffy watched this, a genuine smile spreading across her face.  The truth was, she was rather impressed by Faith’s relative genius when it came to the deceptively simple, “Alphabet Game.” She’d been getting her ass kicked for the past fifteen minutes, and it seemed the trend was continuing, as she had no idea if Faith was even correct.

"Ya like that, huh?" Faith winked once she’d exhausted all her fly dance steps.

She spotted the appreciative look sent her way, and she was feeling mighty impressed, too. With herself.  It was nice to have Buffy appreciate something about her character that didn’t involve pummeling people...even if it was only a useless ability to easily memorize facts. Well, mostly useless.

"You know? I do." Buffy met Faith’s playful baby browns. "I'm all a flutter; think I feel a swoon coming on."

She laid the back of her hand on her forehead as if she were suffering from a touch of the vapors.

"Don't worry, I'll catch you. I'm suave like that," replied Faith, smirking and reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket. "Need a light?"

"Why? I’m already smokin'," Buffy shot back, grinning wickedly.

Wasn't her best, but she was still pleased.

"Hey," she said, scanning the warehouse's exterior and watching a darkly-colored convertible pull up to it, "looks like the guest of honor finally made it to the party."

The darkly clad figure exiting the darkly-colored car never left Faith's sight. "Just in time for the surprise."

 

______

 

"Be careful with that!" A disreputable-looking man with long, greasy hair called out.  "Everything has to be exactly right; we can’t get another one of those at Price Club. It breaks? Every one of your bones is almost certainly next."

He turned away from the younger member of the group, mourning what had become of the once glorious Ph'raha cult. Their members had been dwindling over the years, and the recruits that were brought in to replenish their numbers were disappointing to say the least. They were nothing but children, and largely incompetent ones to boot. 

But, taking a deep, calming breath, he reminded himself that that was all about to come to an end. The dignity the Ph’raha had once carried themselves with, and the respect the name had once inspired, would soon be restored. Following the completion of this maddeningly complicated ritual, they'd again become a formidable force. 

All he had to do was get them through it without incident.

"We thank you for safely delivering to us the Box of Amonhra," he said, bowing his head respectfully at the vampire who had just arrived.

He'd had men positioned by the door to take the box as soon as the vampire entered the building, anxiousness overwhelming his manners somewhat. It was unlikely that they would need to ask anything of anyone after the resurrection of their leader—the great demon, Alucard, whose essence was imprisoned within the box they'd just received. But he was of the mind that it was better not to burn bridges unnecessarily. Now that the box was in his possession, he decided to make friends, even if the vampire was only a middleman.

"The money," grunted the vampire, holding out a delicate and pale hand.

The nails were painted black, and icy-blue veins could be seen through the skin. He was one of those “pretty boy” vampires with long, pale hair to contrast, yet compliment, his cared for nails. He thought he was something special, though if he decided to stay around, the vampire would quickly find out how truly insignificant he was.

"Syril," the greasy-haired man spoke, turning his head lightly to watch as the box was placed on the dais by one of his men, while another prepared the vials, "the briefcase."

His eyes trained on the man in question.

"Yes, Mr. Carpenter," Syril responded quickly, picking up the shiny, metal briefcase and then starting towards the pair.

Mr. Carpenter noticed the hesitation as he approached, and shook his head. It really was impossible to find any henchmen of quality these days. If the hesitation continued, he would feed him to Alucard first when their master was reborn.

 

______

 

"The Box of Amonhra," Wesley breathed softly into the microphone that was pinned to the collar of his jacket. "The essence of the demon is contained within it."

"How long do we have?" Angel always kept sight of the men in the center of the room, occasionally checking the spots where he knew his friends were stationed.

"Anywhere from ten to twenty minutes, I should think. It all depends on how quickly they begin the restoration ritual,” answered Wesley. “It looks as if they have all the necessary components, which means, once the vials of Keudeh are removed, it would probably be wise to strike as fast as possible."

The Englishman bounced on his feet, trying to get his blood flowing again so he'd be prepared when the order was given.

"Be ready," his boss said to him.

As Angel found Gunn, who nodded, he wondered if maybe they should've used Wolfram and Hart's team and not gone it alone for old time’s sake. Too late now.

 

______

 

"How come I remember butterflies...and something creepy about a bread box?" Buffy asked Faith as they tried other ways to occupy themselves outside the warehouse, and unfortunately, they recalled their previous night of binge drinking. "Because that doesn't even make 'drunk sense.' Ooh! Was I craving buttered toast? If that wasn't it, just forget I asked."

"Beats me," Faith responded, twirling their ancient scythe around in a rapid 360, and slicing the air with smooth, swift strokes. "I'm still tryin' to burn off the hangover. Twelve hours straight, my head's been thumpin'. Next time, gotta take it easy on the 'mystery' shots. All about moderation."

She took a few more swings, and then slid the scythe into the holster on her back.

"And I'm sorta...irked, ya know? That we didn't wake up—"

"Naked together? Yeah, would've been nice. It always happens that way in movies," Buffy agreed, helpfully finishing the sentence.

Comfortable, snug, and warm—not at all your typical, “morning after” shock.

"The whole leading up to would probably just be another thing for my brain to have trouble finding, but still, no complaints from me."

Seeing Buffy get into a stretching routine for the third time in the past half-hour, Faith tried to squash her impatience, among other things. "Know what else is irkin' me? Fuses might be burnt up top, but you've still been your usual, ‘perky as all hell.’ What's the secret?"

"Easy—when you've been hungover from mystical beer that turns you into an evil Flintstone, the regular stuff? Tame. It's like a bad ice-cream headache." 

"I hate you."

"No, you don't," Buffy smiled sweetly. "Total opposite, actually."

"Eh, I ride the fence."

"Uh huh. No matter how many brain cells I lose, there's no way I'd ever forget the 'fence riding.'"

Faith smirked, plenty of ego behind it. "Weren't supposed to."

Then she eyed the convertible parked next to the warehouse, yet again.

"Wonder where the delivery vamp stole it from? ‘Cause, damn."

She loved the bike they “borrowed” from Wolfram and Hart's garage more, though.

"Has a nice paint job," Buffy shrugged, who didn't get cars, and was laughed at.

She stopped stretching as she couldn't get any looser, and got behind Faith, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Since when do you say 'irked'?"

"Hey, I have a vocab—nice and wide, too."

"Was never a question. It's just not something you hear every day,” Buffy pointed out. “I mean, I don't say it. Giles doesn't even say it. So—"

Faith cut her off. "Why'd we say we'd do this, B? It's a drag."

"Because. Because Angel means a lot to both of us, and we'd be jerks if we said we wouldn't do backup," Buffy glanced at the large window on the upper floor, where all the action was, "and just about everyone we left Sunnydale with has fled the country—or the state—except for Willow, Kennedy, and my sister, so we ran out of other plans to have.

“There's also the guilt factor. From sitting on our props-worthy, 'Chosen' butts all summer," she explained without stopping. "Did I cover everything?"

"Think you got it all, yeah.” Faith nodded. “It's just, like I said back at that bus—done with war."

 

______

 

They went over to the wall, and Buffy picked up the sword and the walkie-talkie she’d sat there, putting the sword in a holster similar to Faith's, and palming the communication device.

"He's gotta be bitin' off more than he can suck, running what he is," Faith believed.

"Guess he'll find out,” shrugged Buffy. “Especially when he starts sleeping there, and we get kicked out of the hotel. But he's still one of the good guys."

She waited a second before changing subjects. "’Kay, I've been patient. Extremely. And now I wanna know...why don't you wanna slay anymore? You love it. I'm who always complained."

Angel's voice over the walkie-talkie impeded any response. "The seller's coming your way with the box."

The slayers stood up as a vampire came crashing through that large, upper floor window, and landed hard on the hood of the convertible. It left a sizeable dent, which pissed Faith off more than anything else.

"Thanks for the heads up," his ex told him dryly.

"We need it. You can't let it get open," he said to her.

Buffy’s eyebrow quirked. "I thought you only could with a ritual? Which you're supposed to be stopping."

"We did, but apparently it was just for show. Ph'rahas are traditionalists."

"What's inside?"

"A demon that no one's seen in seven-hundred years. We don't exactly...know much about it,” he admitted. “Except that it's, you know, evil, so..."

Faith shot Buffy an, “I told you so” look. "Let's just motor, do what we do, then go back to sittin’ on ‘em, so I can down another bottle of gels. And how come we got walkies and they got spy mics? The fuck?"

"We're on it," Buffy told him, and clicked off.

The escaping vampire had gotten in the car, meaning they ran to their sleek, midnight blue two-wheeler in a hurry. Faith kick-started the engine, while Buffy jumped on behind. They followed the convertible—sans helmets, because of style issues—that had screeched out of there at an unhealthy speed.

Getting on his tail, Buffy then began to pray.


	18. Part Four: Chapter Four

And pray, and pray. Especially when Faith really gunned the engine after they moved onto a highway, which thanks to the ungodly late hour, was more or less deserted. They were outside the city limits now.

If there was one plus, it was that the location of the docks and warehouse meant they didn't have to spend forever trying to chase the damn convertible through the more crowded, metro streets. There was a good deal of swerving and sharp turns that Buffy could've done without, though. Faith couldn't have been happier.

The open road finally let them gain ground. Hopefully that meant this “extreme driving” fetish would come to a non-lethal end very soon. But it was most likely a false hope, because, well, had either of them given thought to how they should wrap it up?

Nope, and that wasn't reassuring. Nor was Faith's humming of that song from The Lost Boys. Wasn't good at all. For one thing, vampires didn't fly.

Late eighties monster flicks gave Buffy a headache.

"What's your big plan?" she asked loudly into Faith's ear. "Drive ‘til something explodes?"

"Lookin’ that way," Faith replied. "You have a better suggestion? ‘Cause, uh, I didn't hear you throwin' out any."

"I've been a little busy trying not to fall off!"

"Oh, and it's not like I'm _steering_!"

"I never said you weren't! But you’re also who just _had_ to live out some action movie fantasy. At crazy-pants speed. Without _helmets_."

"Didn't have 'em in my color. Had to be Jet, or I was goin' commando with the safety. Got standards, yunno," Faith explained, and it made perfect sense to her. "Now either cork it, or figure out our next play. And, wanna ease off on the chest? I'm concentratin’ here."

She switched lanes so they could pull beside the car.

Buffy's offended gasp was buried by all the much louder noise, and then she wasn't allowed to properly express how offended she truly was, because something more important caught her attention as she paled.

"Fine, you want a suggestion? Truck."

Faith's brow knitted from lack of comprehension. "Huh?" That's when she saw they were going head-to-head with an 18-wheeler, and its horn bellowed. "Fuck!"

She avoided the behemoth vehicle at the last second—as well as quite a mess for the “Public Works” people—screeching, skidding, and spinning a couple times until coming to a merciful stop. The bike wobbled from side-to-side before she steadied it completely. They both sucked in a breath to collect their wits, and made sure every limb remained attached.

Strangely calm, Buffy spoke when everything checked out.

"How's that 'concentrating' thing going?"

 

______

 

Faith said not a word. The look she wore went from one of shock, to one of gritty determination. It was suddenly not fun—she was ready to get this finished. Her foot forcefully began them moving again, and she turned the bike around.

Just like that, they were doing eighty as the wind hammered their faces and roared in their ears.

The rear of the convertible was soon inches away. Faith debated doing something cool like popping a wheelie and slamming back down on the trunk, but that would've been pointless. So she made a second attempt at moving alongside and was successful, keeping pace with minimal effort.

Buffy had to come up with a solution before he chose to run them off the road. It came to her quickly—she could excel under pressure sometimes. Taking the scythe from off of Faith's back, she yelled—

"Bend down and keep it steady!"

Faith lowered herself against the motorcycle's front-end while her partner adjusted the grip she had on the weapon, then let it fly. It spun through the air like a cold-seeking missile...lodging right into the side of the vampire's skull. In a not very pretty manner, the convertible, on an angle, went head-on into the guardrail, where it crunched together like an expensive, tin can.

The slayers had dropped their speed, but still jolted upon reaching a stationary position. Faith jumped off the bike. Buffy removed herself with more care, happy to be grounded. She immediately became the recipient of the mother of all high fives.

 

______

 

"Dude! Holy...I mean, _man_. That thing went like, VHOOSH, and the car went like, BLAM! Okay, that was _the_ most kick ass, tightest...B, you are, without a fucking doubt, my new action hero. Who cares if you're this big?" Faith's thumb and forefinger squished together.

With an “Aw, shucks!” face, the Buffy said, "Well, it was really noth...hey!"

"Bummer about his wheels. Ain't survivin' after that," Faith said in a grave tone, walking to the object of her sympathy.

Buffy stood there, waiting. For what, she wasn't sure.

"What? Let's do this. You got my back, right?"

Air blew out of Buffy's pursed lips. "Yeah, yeah—I got your damn back."

She went to the driver's side as Faith slickly slid across the trunk to get to the passenger side.

"But, your front? Groping never happened."

"It's cool...they're hard to miss. Water, bridge," winked Faith.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Wow, could you have a bigger—"

She was right against the door when the vampire jumped up and cleared it, lunging at her. The force knocked her on her back. Overtop of her, he snarled, squeezing her throat fiercely, the scythe’s blade still buried in his head.

She lay there choking to death, knowing she could easily gain the advantage at any point before her lungs gave out. She'd faced vampires a lot stronger than this one. He was little more than an annoyance.

Yet she stayed pinned, real fear in her eyes. The paralyzing kind. She was afraid that this was what her life would be. Chasing after one demon or another in the dark of night, every night, in a place where Hell's offspring were never in short supply.

It had worn her down once, and it would again. No matter how old or experienced she was, something could always get the better of her. Before she could blink. If she weren't killed, she'd eventually lose herself again. She had to choose.

She didn't want to carry the weight anymore, and as long as she had a choice, she wouldn't. She didn't mind training, preparing the new batch, doing sweeps wherever she settled, be a liaison, whatever else...but she _had_ to come off the line. Her decision had finally been made.

Normality, a house, a life, she wanted those things. They were boring by comparison, though she greatly anticipated “boring's” arrival.

"Son of a bitch! Couldn'ta picked a worse move." Uh oh, Faith was mad.

The next thing Buffy heard was a “sploosh” when the scythe got yanked from her attacker's cranium, upwards then out. It made him let go, but the other, less fun result was the gooey. Gooey which was close to spilling.

"Eeew!" "Gross!"

Buffy pushed him up higher so his head lifted, and swinging cleanly, Faith proceeded with the decapitation. The scythe then returned to its holster, job done.


	19. Part Four: Chapter Five

**{After I give Buffy a hand up, ask if she's all right—says she is, but we both know she checked out back there—I hop in the car and bust open the glove box. Hah! Knew it'd be in here...dumb ass. I grab the thing...that fits in my palm. Least it's translucent; always a trip with mystical whatzits.**

**{I go park myself on the trunk next to my girl...yeah, I said it. We're still playing it loose, but so the hell what? Step off. Aw, wait...we're back on a goddamn highway, aren't we? 'Cept it's darker this time, and Buffy digs me now. Pretty bitchin' summer.}**

 

"You see this thing? For such a pain in the ass, sure rolled snake-eyes in the size department." Faith resisted the urge to juggle it. "S' even smaller than—"

"Don't you dare," Buffy ordered warningly. "You hear me?"

"Clear as a bell."

 

**{Y’know, mostly she does.}**

 

The two of them could surprisingly look up and see stars; that was a rare occurrence within the boundaries of L.A. Where they had to go back to soon. Temporarily. Buffy liked being able to see sky the way it was meant to be seen.

She wanted to see it more often, so once they delivered the unimposing trinket and fulfilled their end...

"I wanna...Faith, I wanna move."

 

**{Was wonderin' when she was gonna say that. Took her long enough.}**

 

"Where to?"

"I don't know. Someplace demons don't flock to'd be nice. Where, if there has to be demons, they're...manageable. And where, if it has to apocalypse, there's one like, every decade. _Not_ yearly." Buffy was adamant when it came to that. "I can't handle it anymore; I don't like myself when I'm in 'slayer' mode. I...

"I'm gonna sorta walk away—is that bad?"

"Only if I get shot down, and don’t get a couch," Faith grinned.

"Well, that's the thing. For this to work, you're kind of vital to the plan."

 

**{Did ya catch that? Vital.}**

 

"Yeah?"

Buffy nodded. "Definitely. I might need your money."

 

 **{She WHAT? That's cold. Had sucker punches comin’ from every angle Inside, but she's hittin'** **on another level. Why doesn't she just get her hands dirty, jab in there and crush my lungs for real? B's a lot of things, but I never woulda figured...what a grubbin’, little bit...wait.**

 **{Now she's...she's friggin'** _**smirking** _ **? Oh. Smirking. Right. ‘Cause of the joke. I was in on it the whole way. I was. Got it? But screw her anyway. She was bein' all devilish and...oh, just fuck it.}**

 

Faith shouldered her in response. "Bitch."

"Bitchier." Buffy shouldered back. "’Kay, serious answer time. I want you with me because, if you get over your issues first, I've gotta make sure nobody snatches you. Before I make my pitch."

 

**{That's more like it.}**

 

"I'm a hot item, so try gettin’ in gear. Not makin' promises," Faith stated her terms, all of which were bogus, because she'd be an idiot to pass up Buffy. "Always wanted to be a ‘Kato,’ though. Can’t see any offers being better than yours."

She got a smile.

"But we don't hafta hang it up permanent. We could pass on the wisdom."

"Exactly," agreed Buffy wholeheartedly. "I was just thinking that."

 

______

 

**{This what a relationship is? Just relaxin', talkin', having fun? Then I could do it easy. But no, you say the wrong thing, you forget something, it crashes and burns. Fault’d probably land on yours truly, too. When we plunge in, I gotta be confident.**

**{Quicker I am, quicker we can quit holding back. And Buffy's right—vamps, mystical whatzits...never gonna help. It leaves you gaspin', life ditched down a Sunnydale-sized hole.**

**{Hey, it's our free will. ‘Bout time we cashed in.}**

 

All of the sudden, the past months, even ones before they left Sunnydale in the dust, caught up with Buffy in an instant. She'd had so many mixed emotions that ran the gamut, and had never really released any. Faith had been her primary confidant, something she couldn't have planned, yet appreciated.

But she still kept herself in check. Now...now she felt free in the greatest way. Putting her face in her hands, she leaned back against the car as her body shook.

 

**{I'm off my game, ‘cause dude, color me lost.}**

 

Faith turned to look at her, and watching and listening, it became clear Buffy was laughing. Not hard, but not lightly. She smiled because it was so odd.

"Uh, you wanna fill me in on the punch line?"

"No punching, remember? And not the face. I promised."

With that, Buffy leaned forward, stared at a dumbfounded Faith, and then fell into her, laughing some more. She was finally joined in it, though uncertainly. Slowly stopping after several moments, she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Sorry. Just feels really good to make a decision. Hit me pretty fast. And all at once."

 

**{My girl’s still weird, but sometimes she makes sense. Here's hoping the weight gets some distance. Far away from us.}**

 

"How about you?" Buffy asked her.

"Mean the couch? I thought we...?"

 

**{She's givin' me the Eyes. How's that fair? But she'll just dog me ‘til I cough up the reason. Yeah, guess I owe her. I'm stickin' with the plain and simple. Not much to tell. }**

 

Faith put her feet on the road and used them again, standing, tossing the box to Buffy. She faced her, stretching her arms over her head.

"You’re right. I love the rush, love the power...the job gets me juiced. But so do you. One spar and my tanks are full up; don't need a brawl to the death for that."

" _That's_ your reason?" Buffy was incredulous. "Because I'm your new hormone-catalyst?"

 

**{You pay a chick a compliment...}**

 

"I'm sayin’ you can sub for destiny...and _that's_ the reaction?" Faith laid a hand to her chest dramatically. "Don't know if I can put myself out there again—cuts deep."

"Oh. Ohhh." Hazel eyes widened, as their owner hadn't looked at it that way. "No, no, no. You have to put out, ‘cause...really?"

She smiled blushingly.

"I get it; I'm good. Ego's also very, very flattered. It doesn't deserve it, but graciously accepts anyway. So thank you."

 

 **{** _**I'm** _ **slow? Riiight. Sure.}**

 

______

 

"Welcome.” Faith rolled her eyes. “Look, now that you finally got on the train—"

"Sorry, sorry. Go ahead."

Faith freed her cigarettes from her jacket before going to speak, and got the Eyes again. It was a bit of a contest of wills, which she soon lost. Crushing the pack in her hand, she chucked it into the car.

**{Whip cracks any more, m' gonna be red-assed in the morning.}**

 

Pacing, she wanted to reach the end of this. "So...yeah. You're part of the reason. The other part's, back when my watcher found me, I jumped at the gig, because I knew it was my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

"To dish it out, instead of just takin' the blows. It was about showin’ the dirtbags and scumbags back home I wasn't weak, that I was above 'em. Same deal in Sunnydale. Build a rep, then no one touches me unless I’m at the wheel,” explained Faith. “Wasn't about the vamps; they were just...fun."

Her smirk was self-deprecating.

"But these last couple years? Didn't wanna be that girl. Don't need to. ‘Cause for the first time, I know I'm not weak; that I'm better. Inside, yunno? Throwin' down didn't mean anything. I was just a kid scared shitless, and I'm done feelin' like that. Time I grew up."

 

**{It's the truth. Might have a problem trusting myself to pull back when everything else says don’t, but, got by so far. Even if this “maturity” thing isn't a hundred percent, ‘least I'm usin’ my head. Sometimes it's not being all impulsive that gets ya spotted in the crowd. And throwing down? Tires you. After a while.}**

 

Buffy looked on with admiration. So _that’s_ what happened in prison. Faith shyly looked away, plowing ahead—

"All I got left now is what gets you off about it. Swoopin’ in, being somebody's hero, making sure nobody has to live without ‘em....need to keep doin’ that. If I'm around. Just not here.

“Every day something ugly's poppin' outta the shadows. If I have a choice to come off the line? Ain't gonna say 'no.' I want a life. Never thought I would."   

 

**{Call us selfish if you want, but ASAP? We're gone.}**

 

Buffy moved to Faith, giving her a brief hug of reassurance, understanding completely. She breathed in deeply. "Whaddaya say we get one, then?"

 

**{I'm all for that. We head back to the bike, and "Life is a Highway" is beggin' to be whistled. But Buffy's not havin' it. What's she have against me and music? Won't let me exercise the pipes, won't let me hum...she acts like some demon's gonna run wild if I—}**

 

The box in Buffy’s hand grew inexplicably hot. She dropped it, and after watching the mystical smoke and light show, they were faced with an eight-foot tall Alucard, whose blood-red skin had a translucent sheen, just like the box it came from. They could clearly see veins pulsing underneath, while his black eyes seemed to go on forever.

He was feral, animalistic, and he had the teeth and claws to prove it.

 

**{...I'm gonna hear so much shit for this.}**

 

______

 

"Okay, I’m asleep, and this is a nightmare; like to wake up now, please," Buffy said, backing slowly away.

"If it isn't..." Faith began, backing away as well.

"We kill it?"

"Or we're fucked."

"Or we're fucked," Buffy not very happily acknowledged, as Alucard advanced. "Got a strategy? Since you _had_ to make it come out?"

"Yeah...whatever makes it go back in." Faith was none-too-good at strategy.

"I believe I can attend to that," said a voice from behind them.

The slayers screamed and whirled around to see a six-foot tall figure cloaked in purple velvet, peeking out at them with crystal blue eyes. His entire figure was covered except for those.

"Greetings. I am Dasin, this beast's rightful owner. I hadn't anticipated his release, but I am grateful you went to such trouble. Behave, Alucard."

The demon heeled, and went to his master's side.

 

**{All right, we hafta quit losing our cool. Can't blame it on the wind this time. And what the...?}**

 

"Hold on." Buffy's hand went up. "Isn't he like, a centuries old, revered leader of some demon cult thingy?"

"Some time ago, yes. Though the Ph'rahas as a respectable clan have been quite defunct. If Carpenter hadn't come along to stir the pot, this entire mess could have been avoided," Dasin explained. "Simply, I bested Alucard in battle, then chose to punish him for his gall. And frustratingly, Carpenter now carries this same, arrogant trait, leading him to try liberating his once, great leader."

He sighed. "Had he succeeded, it would have only been a disappointment."

"Why? And why whistling?" she continued to ask.

"Alucard has been properly domesticated, of course. And I happen to enjoy the song."

He whistled a few notes of "Jailhouse Rock," and Alucard returned inside the box, which strangely disappeared off the road.

"Be sure to pass along my gratitude to Angel for his efforts, won't you? I'm afraid I must be going. Good evening, Slayers."

One blink, and he was gone. Like they wanted to be.

"They were 'The Big E,' right? Both of 'em?" Faith questioned, somewhat reeling from the exchange. "And Angel was just gonna fork that box over?"

Buffy frowned. "Looks like."

 

**{Isn't he supposed to be reformin' the place? I knew it didn't sit right. Gets any worse and he's on his own—I'll pull Willow out myself.}**

 

Turning to the motorcycle, they looked at the road ahead for a long moment, then at each other. Saddling up next, Buffy's hands went around and underneath Faith's breasts.

"Ya-huh. They are hard to miss," she grinned.

"Thanks," Faith said with sincerity. "What d'you think about movin' coasts? It's a different world back East, B. The weather changes and everything."

"Well, our possibilities are wide open. Smart ass."

 

 **{I just drive. Summer** _**was** _ **pretty bitchin', but it's only the beginning. Winter’s up soon. I'm gonna need skis bad, Buffy's gonna need gear...yo, like a uniform. Mmm...bet she will.}**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part Four. Epilogue to come.


	20. Epilogue

**Coushoa, Maine**

**Early December 2004, Sixteen Months Later**

 

"It was a perfectly good analogy," Buffy muttered to herself, transfixed by the sight of her foot idly kicking at the white tile of the supermarket aisle. "So what if it liked words? Brevity doesn't always mean better all the time."

She tried to convince her head and its contents of that, as her conversation with Dawn—who was coming home from her first semester at Berkley, having survived “being on a break” from her slayer girlfriend—had suddenly resurfaced for some reason. They’d had it months ago, but here it was, playing inside her mind over and over again.

Why now? Probably because she knew the first thing her sister would do when they saw each other was give her crap over it.

"Uh, know the floor wax is wicked shiny, and that's cool, but I can be entertaining, too." Faith was attempting to direct her fellow shopper's attention elsewhere, and when she accomplished that, their eyes met, making the wax a forgotten memory. " _Me_."

She was pointing at herself and enjoying the quick once-over. "Whaddaya think?"

Holding up a box of cookies in front of her face, she turned it so the nutritional information was visible to Buffy, showing off what “she” contained.

"I think it lies; it's a lying box. ‘Cause if you were that good for me..." Buffy's voice was rife with amusement, though she frowned before snatching the box and dropping it into the shopping cart behind them—finishing that thought was dangerous.

Faith smirked. "Grabby, grabby, B." 

"Want, take, have, F," Buffy replied, smiling, then noticed Faith's face grow more somber, and saw her shift her weight uncomfortably.

"Long time ago, yeah, but I'm a good girl now." Faith's dark orbs practically burned into hers as she spoke, the intensity belaying the casualness of her words, imbuing them with significantly more meaning.

"Faith," Buffy felt guilty upon seeing the anxiety she’d caused on features she had memorized so well, "you know I know that." 

She wanted to suffuse those words with every bit of the emotion she felt them with.

"I was just—"

"Jokin'. I caught that about you." Faith interrupted whatever was going to be said, while her face and tone brightened immediately.

So much so that if Buffy couldn't still feel the lingering sensation of that stare, she would've wondered if she'd imagined the serious turn.

Taking a peak down the aisle, Faith’s lips then experienced a downturn. "Shoulda made a list."

Buffy was silent a moment, deep in thought, completely unaware of the fact that talking had continued. "Why would you say that?"

"Because the place is a damn maze; it’s not even alphabetic, it smells like somebody popped off a few, and so far all we've got are Oreos." Faith was slightly agitated, gesturing wildly to emphasize her points, clearly not going where Buffy had hoped. "We shoulda done some recon...cased the joint before the job or something," she finished, more talking to herself.

“’Cased the...’?” Buffy shook her head, mostly to dislodge the off-topic comments. "Not what I meant—the goodness of you. _I’m_ the one who does the reminding. _You’re_ the one who forgets. I haven’t.”

Her hand moved to rest on Faith's forearm, encouraging her to meet her eyes.

"We've been living together for a year, even before the house, _our_ gym/barn is actually starting to fill with people who wanna learn from and pay us, and we've...shared a bathroom. That's trust of the sacred kind," she concluded with a tiny grin. "Repeating: I _know_ you're a good person. How come you don't wanna?"

Faith's shoulders slumped slightly as she sighed. "When things are good, I keep waiting for the shit to start flyin', and for 'bad' to remember to jump on 'ass.' The more things change, ya know?"

Her eyes drifted around the aisle, hesitant to see the open, caring gaze.

"Faith," Buffy’s voice was firm but gentle, and yet Faith planted her gaze firmly on the floor, "please don't make me do the chin thing."

She wasn’t able to prevent the smile that came to her lips as she remembered Faith's reaction the one and only time she'd tried tilting her head up. A surprised squeak and alarmed look had followed. Ticklish—she never would've guessed.

Because Faith feared public embarrassment, she lifted her head on her own, and made eye contact.

"Nobody's gonna take this from you. Me, the house, Dawn...we're kinda family, and _nothing_ will change that. I'm not planning on this being temporary, or on trading anything in—you included—when the non-existent lease is up,” Buffy swore. “I'm in full control of my senses here, I promise.

“Us, the cart, with the shopping...it can't get more sensible. So if the 'bad' wants your ass, it'll have a hell of a time jumping onto, ‘cause I'm watching it,” she concluded, matching Faith's new smile, and faltering when it turned into more of a leer. "Watching, you know, to protect it...from the bad. Not watching for fun, because there's no fun-having to be...had."

It hit her that Faith had taken her rousing speech straight to the gutter.

"Okay, maybe a little bit for fun," she conceded, acting awfully coy, looking through her eyelashes. 

Hell, who was she trying to kid? She looked a lot for fun, though it was true that she would defend that ass and the attached body with her life.

"Buffy," Faith said, drawing said woman out of her contemplation, "I..."

 

______

She tapered off almost as soon as she began, face screwing up with frustration because she didn't have any words that matched what she wanted to say. Buffy just did that to her. Made her feel things so strong, so pure and overwhelming, that she didn't think a combination of vowels and consonants existed to describe them accurately.

Her fears of the past were squashed under those feelings every day. Most of the time, she didn't worry about it, didn't dwell on it. She'd learned a long time ago that if she did that, she wouldn't move on from it.

It wasn't a matter of forgetting the last twenty-odd years, but of acknowledging them for what they were in order to not repeat the mistakes ever again. Still, she was a pessimist by nature. She was aware that her severely crappy childhood—and pretty much everything from that point on—had left her with a rather bleak worldview.

However, when she doubted, feared, her partner was there. Buffy's presence spread over her like a salve, covering and protecting her from those life-long wounds. And Buffy’s words cut to the heart of her fears with a precision and gentleness that was truly amazing.

She was overcome with emotion by them. With her lips parted as if she were going to finish speaking, and her eyebrows knitted together as if carefully planning out what to say, Faith leaned lightly against the shopping cart, trained on Buffy. Nothing came out.

All she could do was feel.

 

______

 

"Don't get all choked up," Buffy filled in the silence that had descended, "the compliment was for your ass."

She shook her head, pseudo-dramatically.

"Look at you, always taking the credit."

With a smirk, she sank into her thoughts, knowing what Faith was feeling. It was one of the things that had come to captivate her, how expressive Faith's face could be. How at times, it was so readable and clear. What they were currently showing would only have been obscured by speech.

Occasionally she wondered if Faith had always had that innate ability. If she’d just missed it in high school. But then she remembered her vow to stop analyzing and reliving and questioning. The present was all that mattered. She would live for it, cherishing that Faith was an open book to her now.

"You know me. I see an opportunity, I seize." Straightening her posture, Faith knew Buffy got it, could see it.

It was comforting.

"Great. Then why don't you seize the cart so we can see what discount opportunities await in the 'beverage' aisle?" Buffy directed a pointed look at their nearly empty cart.

"Yes, ma'am," Faith saluted before dutifully taking hold of the cart, then bending over the handle bar casually.

"It frightens me when you're obedient," Buffy admitted, casting a dubious glance over at Faith. "You're spirited, independent, and unruly—be non-conformy. Make fun of something."

"Forget it—can't put me on the spot like that. What if it sucked? I have a rep to live up to," she announced, shaking her head. "Let's get this done. Brat's shindig won't even have a chance to blow if we don't get outta here soon."

 

______

 

"Hey!" Faith exclaimed ten minutes later, whacking Buffy in the arm.

"For future reference, just go with 'loud and irritating,' or 'silent and painful.' No mixing and matching," suggested Buffy grumpily.

"What's an 'onion blossom'?" Faith cocked her head to the side curiously, sounding a way that made Buffy want to grab and kiss her for being both sexy and cute all at once.

"Why?" Buffy had heard Spike talk about them, though for the life of her she couldn't recall exactly what they were.

"Andrew emailed, said he wants 'em at the bash, 'In remembrance of the brave warrior who fought by our side and died for the betterment of all mankind...uh, ‘til he sorta came back again'," Faith answered, holding her hands up at the smirked response. "I was quoting the guy." She tried to glare, but it didn't last. "For real, where'd you find him?"

Shrugging her shoulders helplessly, Buffy replied, "He followed me home one night, we fed him...pretty much sealed the deal." Beat. "Well, that's the story I'd tell if we had dinner parties."

She was chucking assorted brands of ruffled chips into their cart.

"You wanna learn how to make onion blossoms?"

Faith snorted at how unbelievably off the mark Buffy was. "Yeah."

Buffy smirked at her again, seeing that she should've known better. "I guess we'll just have to tell Andrew it's B.Y.O.B, then."

The index finger of her right hand came to rest on her lips as she looked thoughtfully down the aisle.

"Uh, you know, like, 'Bring Your Own Blossoms'?"

Faith nodded. "Yeah, B; I got it, thanks."

 _'It_ was _funny.'_ Buffy sighed—she just had to go and ruin it.

"Um, little help?" she requested then, half-trying to reach the high shelf and half-watching Faith, who had her hands clutched around the handle of the cart, suspiciously canvassing the area.

Faith shushed her. "I'm guarding the cart."

It was stated with the utmost seriousness, which was confusing to say the least.

Buffy had to hear this. "Guarding?" Only a distracted “hmm” was offered as an affirmative. "From what?"

"'Carson Daly'-looking ass-prick in the Sox cap," Faith declared, truly disgusted. "He's been cruising people's carts, takin' their fruits and dairy after he scopes out the expirations."

Her eyes were on constant alert. "He ain't gettin’ my watermelon."

Buffy could only stare at this strange person who used to be Faith. "’Course not—you worked for that melon. Fierce competition."

She nodded her head supportively.

"That lady was what? Sixty, maybe sixty-five? You earned that baby." Her voice practically oozed with emphatic sarcasm.

"Snooze ya lose," Faith shrugged and then reached into the cart, running her finger along the watermelon, which brought a pleased smile to her face.

"D'you need some alone time?"

At this rate, they'd be lucky to get out of here by midnight.

"Don't listen to her," Faith advised, looking down at the fruit, "she's jus' jealous."

She gave it one more pat before concentrating on Buffy.

"Relax, B," she said as they turned the corner and went down the next aisle, "your melons'll always be my favorite."

"You mean that?" Buffy was oddly charmed by this news.

"From the bottom of my aorta," Faith swore, placing her right hand over her heart.

"How do you—?"

"G.E.D...and reruns. ER is awesome."

The ex-con had worked hard, both reading and viewing diligently.

 

______

 

Buffy's eyes lingered on Faith and her smile, taking them in their entirety. The light freckles that dusted her nose, the dimples that appeared as the smile smirked, the mischievous yet affectionate glint, and the way her hair fell in front of her face, blocking while somehow heightening, her features. Buffy’s eyes rolled downward to lips, as a tongue licked out and gave them a welcome, redder, glistening quality.

"Buffy?" Faith was getting worried.

Watching Buffy watch her, she saw...no, she wouldn’t go there, because when the moment ended and they didn't...go there, she didn't want to deal with the disappointment that would follow.

Avoiding her partner momentarily, Buffy checked out their position before looking back at Faith and Faith’s cute confusion. They were tucked away in a part of the supermarket near the doors to the delivery area. It was deserted just now and not a single noise indicated anyone was approaching.

Dawn's words were on auto-loop, replaying in her head again: _'Are you both giant dumbasses? Why aren't you all over each other yet? ... You could be happi_ er _.'_

"Shut up, Dawn."

"What?" Faith was really starting to get concerned about this behavior.

She reached out her hand and placed it on Buffy's shoulder; squeezing lightly, the move achieved its desired effect, as hazel eyes found her brown.

Buffy's earlier musings played themselves against her sister's rant: _'You said you were gonna live like normal people, didn't you? ‘Cause guess what? When two,_ normal _people are in frickin’ love with each other, and frickin’ know it, and have frickin’ foreplay practice three times a day, they’re_ at least _frickin’ dating! And if they’re already living together, they usually have tons of frickin’ ridiculous, non-stop...sleep. Um, so, yeah, you should do that. Be brave...live. For me.'_

Why did Dawn always have to throw some part of that speech back in her face?

"She's annoying, but she's right," came Buffy’s soft concession as Faith still peered at her, ready to dial 911 if need be.

Without another word, without any more debate or doubt, Buffy leaned forward and tenderly brushed her lips against Faith's, as if testing to ensure they were really there. But they pressed together more firmly as her hand floated up to land behind a smooth neck, drawing them closer. Faith's hand, meanwhile, traveled down her arm and around her waist.

It was time, and they were making a damn big splash.

Feeling fingers graze her scalp, Faith tangled her own in blond hair, trying to mold Buffy's body to hers as the kiss deepened. The instant their mouths connected, she became hyper aware—nothing had ever been like this. She swore she could feel her heart vibrating in her chest. She could _hear_ the blood being pumped through her veins, keeping her standing here, very much living.

As Faith breathed in, intoxicated by the scent that was uniquely Buffy, she felt the heat they both radiated passing into and through one another, giving all their nerve-endings a gentle caress. Now she’d swear she could hear and feel what Buffy was. Like they’d synced once again. It was too much, but also nowhere near enough.  

Every higher process inside her brain, short-circuited. 

 

______

 

"We should," Buffy was breathless as she pulled her lips from Faith's, and inhaling the abundant air, she tried to solve that problem, "probably get some real food."

Coming to rest her forehead on Faith’s shoulder, she briefly caught sight of the products on the shelves beside them: Marshmallows.

"For what?" Faith asked, barely registering the words.

Her heart was still beating a mile a minute, and then there was the dizziness.

"The party," Buffy replied, lifting her head to see a flummoxed face.

Faith squinted, wishing desperately that her brain would jumpstart itself soon. "How come? We invited?"

"Yep, considering that it's ours."

A huge smile slowly spread across Buffy’s face as she took in Faith's flushed skin and dilated pupils.

"Our way too big, holiday/welcome home party for Dawn...that everyone we know and care about is coming to. We've planned for months."

"We know people?" Faith automatically responded, blinking. "Oh, yeah—but do we hafta? Can't we just—?"

The foggy, lust-scented haze had finally dissipated.

"Uh-uh. It's our destiny, and c'mon, has that _ever_ been avoidable?" Buffy continued to smile, easily grasping Faith's hand. "Let's go."

"I'm good here," Faith abruptly said, planting her feet after she'd been successfully tugged forward a few steps.

"Food—we need to get food."

Truth be told, Buffy was sorely tempted to return to their nook and retire there indefinitely.

Faith shook her head. "Wanna stay—I like it here."

She was convinced this was the best possible option.

"There's a marble cake out in that big, wide store with _your_ name on it." Looking at the stubborn woman guilelessly, Buffy knew that if the possibility of baked goods couldn't get her to move, nothing would. 

"Okay," Faith sighed the sigh of the conquered, "if ya feed it to me."

"Think I can arrange that." Buffy smiled up at her before tugging on her hand again, leading them out of the aisle, shopping cart obediently trailing. "Did you let go of that when we...?"

She remembered feeling an arm around her, but wasn't sure if she remembered both.

"Well...had to protect my melon." Faith was satisfied to see it safe and sound.

"You chose to protect a watermelon over feeling me up?" Buffy was a shining example of indignity.

"Wouldn't exactly say that..." Faith spoke gingerly, realizing that wasn't the right response. "This hand just did what it had to, and this one," She tapped the cart handle, "did what _it_ had to."

Buffy looked away, hamming up the melodrama. "People who choose melons over me, don't get fed by me."

"Oh for Christsakes...I didn't choose the melon over you!" Faith exclaimed, using the hold Buffy had on her, to stop them. "You surprised me—white-knuckled, I was grippin' so tight. 'Rocked' and 'socked,' I mean it. Without this here cart, I woulda fallen right over," she revealed, somewhat abashedly. 

"Honest?" Buffy felt very full of herself, and also considerably moved. "Then I'll feed you cake."

And with that, they moved into the main part of the store in search of “real” food.

 

______

 

Faith paused as she loaded the last of the bags into the trunk, taking a deep, cleansing breath as she did. She could feel Buffy behind her, standing about a foot away off to her left. Breath taken, she straightened up and reached for the lid, pleased that the motion had stopped the minor quivers that’d been running through her hand.

They hadn't talked about the kiss at all after the quest for “real” food began, and she found herself getting anxious. Not to mention uneasy, unsettled and other, bad “un” words. She was out of her element.

When it came to the more physical aspects of seeing someone, there was no doubting her experience. It wasn't that she worried about. No, it was the pesky emotional stuff, which threw her for a loop.

She loved Buffy, sure. That she already knew, and it wasn't much help. It didn't tell her where Buffy was, or what Buffy was thinking and feeling. It didn't tell her if Buffy was over the whole, “I need to find myself before I can commit to a relationship” phase, and it didn't tell her if she was, either.

It could've just been a slip up...of the tongue. Buffy might not be ready yet. How would she feel if that was the case? How would it...?

With a frustrated grunt, she now understood why she had run from actual relationships for so long—it required a lot of thought on her part.

Robin was the first person who'd ever wanted something more, and that had worked out...not at all. Despite his assurance to the contrary, and her own desire to believe that she had worth beyond a few, extremely enjoyable hours, she couldn't accept his offer. And she was scared to death that she still couldn't, even if that offer came from Buffy.

 If she had doubts, then Buffy had to have them too...and it was all trippin' her out hardcore.

"Listen—" Faith spun around suddenly, needing to move as well as talk, and having just found her spine, this was as good a time as any to do both.

"I'm your girlfriend, you're mine, and if we screw up, we can always have brain-melty makeup sex." Buffy was serious and calm, cutting off whatever else had been coming.

_'I can't believe I said that.'_

Faith's mouth closed. _'Can't believe she said that.'_

Settling down, she leaned against the rear of their car and considered quietly, until an ecstatic smile busted out. All of the questions that’d been floating through her head somehow vanished because of that one sentence. It subdued the beast known as “Self-Doubt,” and was exactly what she'd wanted to hear.

"I'm driving."

"Which means I get the remote tonight." Pointing at herself, Buffy went for “serious,” but the neutral set of her lips soon dissolved into a smile too.

"No...no friggin' way. Not Masterpiece Theatre," Faith groaned, cueing Buffy to smile wider in response. "Why do you do this to yourself? To me? There's other ways to cope with the mileage. Like just...calling...Giles."

BBC America and PBS could kiss her fabulously tanned ass.

"Keep talkin' and you're also gonna sit through, As Time Goes By," was all Buffy said as she headed for the passenger side.

"That one's kinda chill," Faith replied, slipping into the driver's seat. "Judi Dench layin' down the law, all, 'Do what I say!' And Lionel's like, 'Ah, okay.' She's totally swingin’ the crop in that relationship."

"You think you're gonna be the Dame?" Buffy scoffed while Faith started the engine. "That's funny, ‘cause you're so not. But you keep on dreaming those big dreams."

She ignored the glare as she turned to look out the back window.

"Optimism's attractive."

Faith reversed out of the parking space, saying, "Know what else is attractive?" 

"Oh! I love Twenty Questions! ‘Kay, lemme see, uh..." Buffy began, knowing that the last thing Faith would ever suggest—especially in an enclosed space—would be a game involving a never-ending series of questions that needed answers.

"I was thinkin' 'silence.'" Faith curtailed that immediately, taking her eyes off the road for the briefest of seconds to glower at her girlfriend, who thought it to be more adorable than threatening.

"'Yes or no' answers only."

Faith rolled her eyes before sighing—she was totally Lionel. They were going to be doing this the whole way back to the house, and she would enjoy it because Buffy did. Shaking her head as the game's initiator raised a thoughtful finger to her lips, she smiled, relieved that the plunge hadn't been as terrifying as she'd expected.

Life was good. And somewhere, a buzzer was going off. A buzzer signaling, after several, lackluster attempts, that a perfect tray of cookies was ready to leave the oven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...the end.


End file.
